


Promise Us Everything

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-09
Updated: 2008-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fallout of a magical clandestine war is difficult to wade through, and reconstructing society takes work to be done right. Unfortunately, too many old prejudices remain. Ginny sees the world for what it is and is determined to fix it properly. This leads to all sorts of unlikely allies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Setting The Stage

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by LJ user nokomis305's [](http:)drabble that she had written for me. The opening was actually written as a short drabble for LJ user mynuet. I had actually lost the original five chapters that were written and had to recreate them from memory. :(

As the last of the fires died to embers, Draco knew everything was over. Everything he had ever known would cease to exist, and something new and strange and terrifying would soon be pushed into existence. He was almost looking forward to it; anything had to be better than what he had been through over the past two years.

The littlest Weasley looked him up and down, eyes sparking with hate and loathing. Somehow that wasn't very surprising, though he had expected better from her. She at least seemed to think on her own, even if they disagreed. Draco kept his jaw clenched and met her gaze head on, unflinching. He wouldn't act as if surivival were a terrible thing. He wouldn't act as if saving his family the only way he knew how was horrible. He wouldn't act as if he would kowtow to her or anyone else ever again. He had learned his lesson the first time.

She was startled by the intensity in his gaze and really looked at him then. Something softened, just slightly, and she looked away first. Perhaps she had seen something there she hadn't expected. Perhaps she had seen beyond the stereotypical hate the rest of her family had leveled at him. Perhaps she really did have a mind of her own.

Later, he would look back on that moment and mark it down as the beginning of hope. If she could change, couldn't the rest of the Wizarding World?

The initial optimism soon gave way to pessimism. Things didn't change as drastically as he would have hoped. That initial feeling he had gotten seemed to be the standard. His father had somehow gotten his sentence at Azkaban commuted following the last battle, and his mother had done something to help Harry Potter. She never did talk about it, but it was likely the source of his father's reprieve. It galled Draco to no end to be beholden to Harry bloody Potter for his family's freedom, but he swallowed it down in public. His family was free, their properties and monies were intact, and he didn't have to constantly look over his shoulder wondering where the next strike would be. Still, he knew public opinion would never acquit his family. They looked at him with large unblinking eyes and their thoughts were clear on their faces. _You shouldn't be here,_ they would tell him if they could. _You should be locked up. You shouldn't be able to walk around like this. You haven't paid enough._

They acted as if it were a crime to play the fence, to remain as neutral as possible in an impossible war. They didn't know what it was like to face the Dark Lord on a regular basis and have to tell him _I failed._ They didn't know the torture it was to see everything that he had held dear be smashed to bits. They sat back and judged because they were the victors, they got to rewrite history and paint everyone else as villains.

Draco knew he had gotten off easy. The other Slytherins his year hadn't fared so well. Some had to leave the country, some stayed to face the scorn. Nott hadn't been able to take it very long and had slit his own throat than deal with the continued rage against his family. Millicent left the country and by all accounts had done well for herself. Pansy had to marry to save her family's fortunes and was an isolative drunkard. Blaise had to work; Mama Zabini's latest paramour had died and no one would go near her now. Blaise had suggested Italy to retire to, where the social climate was not as frigid.

It was an impossible struggle to do right by the new regime. It was nearly as oppressive as the Dark Lord's had been, but now there was an air of righteousness. Properties were seized or taxed to the hilt. Monies were scrutinized, owls were regulated. Any former Death Eater or suspected former Death Eater was subject to random searches. Officials taxed them heavily, lost paperwork and made a mess of any complaints filed.

This treatment angered him deeply, but Draco had to swallow it down. There was no point to expressing this rage, no place to discuss it. It simply wasn't allowed, would be considered treason if anyone suspected. _Death Eater filth,_ the Ministry officials seemed to say. _You haven't suffered enough, you haven't paid. We'll make sure we get every last drop of it out of you, until we think you're through._

He had his fortune. Draco took a twisted kind of comfort in that. He was still comfortable and didn't have to struggle. He took to spending time in Muggle London, frequenting a few favorite cafés and bookstores, a few parks and libraries. He dressed as well as any Muggle, and grew familiar with the new surroundings. They didn't know him here. He wasn't a tainted Death Eater's son, he wasn't someone to be afraid of. He was just another bloke spending the afternoon in a café alone, reading a newspaper or a book and sipping tea. It was comforting, and helped to quiet the helpless rage he sometimes felt in Wizarding society. His mother had resumed her charity work, but there were subtle snubs within society. The invitations to events weren't always automatic the way they used to be. Suggestions went unheard. His mother would never be anything less than graceful and elegant, would never comment on the slights dealt her in the wake of Lucius Malfoy's defeat. She bowed her head and bore it stoically, and kept persisting with her work. Lucius, on the other hand, couldn't tolerate it. He withdrew from society, taking up dog breeding and horse breeding as his occupation. He had never been able to handle being second best, and being treated as a pariah weighed on him.

Draco took his revenge on the new society families the only way he knew how—seducing their daughters systematically. They were silly chits anyway, believing that they could reform him into something acceptable. The girls thought that they were special somehow, that they could change him. Or perhaps they fancied themselves in love. Perhaps they honestly believed that he could care about them in the face of what their families had done to his. Perhaps they were silly enough to believe that love truly did conquer everything, that families weren't as important to him as they should be. He bedded them and discarded them at the height of their self-centered fantasies. He took a perverse kind of pleasure of breaking the hearts of the girls whose mothers had broken his mother's.

It was empty, but it was the only recourse he had.

Draco was about to walk into his favorite café in Muggle London when he stopped cold in the doorway. There was a flash of Weasley red in front of him, completely out of place. The littlest Weasley was there alone at a table, a cup of tea in front of her. She contemplated it miserably, and hadn't noticed him yet. He could have turned and walked into a different café. He could have left for a store. He could have returned home.

Her misery intrigued him, however. She was a golden Gryffindor, a Weasley, a former paramour of the Boy That Simply Refused To Die. What did she have to be miserable about? Why did she have to hide in Muggle London?

Draco also remembered that long ago moment in the wake of the final battle. She had _seen_ him then. While she hadn't said anything, she also hadn't loathed him so completely. She had been able to think for herself. What if that was the problem?

He confidently strode into the café, a smile on his face. "Hullo. Is this seat taken?" he asked, coming up to her table. He was gratified to see her startled expression, her eyes wide with confusion and shock. When she nodded slowly, he sat down beside her. "This is probably the best café on this street, did you know that?"

She watched him warily, unsure of his motives. Still, she didn't automatically distrust him or think he was evil.

Oh, this was going to be an interesting afternoon.

***

Life in Wizarding England was fairly circumscribed and regular. There were roles, even if not explicitly stated, and people seemed to fit the stereotypes. As much as Ginny knew that it wasn't _really_ true, it was hard to counteract the notion. Ginny had been ingrained in the black-and-white thinking of her childhood, and it was difficult to shake. The students at Hogwarts all seemed to slide right into their set roles, though she could never be sure if it was because those traits were played up in children. Slytherins were sneaky and self serving and all became Death Eaters as adults. Ravenclaws were scarily brilliant, and disdained anything that wasn't academic. Hufflepuffs were unfailingly loyal and would help just about anyone. Gryffindors were brave and honorable. Still, Ginny could see as an adult that it wasn't always true. Not all Slytherins had become Death Eaters. Some Ravenclaws and even Hufflepuffs had become Death Eaters during the war. Peter Pettigrew had been a Gryffindor, and he wasn't brave or honorable.

Following the war, however, the stereotypes didn't fall apart. If anything, they had become more and more cemented in the culture. The bad people were gone and the good people prevailed and things were going to be different. That was all she heard, all anyone heard. Harry Potter is our savior, the newspapers claimed. Harry Potter is helping rebuild our torn nation. Harry Potter had saved them all.

Only, Ginny knew Harry Potter. She knew his flaws and his capabilities, and while he was growing into a great wizard, she knew he had little inclination for politics or organization. The Prophet went on and on about how he rubbed elbows with all the right people, influencing things for the better. He wanted to make the Wizarding World a safer, better place.

Ginny knew better.

She played Quidditch, so it was hardly a profession that would allow her to really learn how the government ran. Oh, her father was the Vice Minister now and Percy was an Assistant to some Minister or another. Even Ron and Hermione had some sort of Ministry job now, though Harry had gone off to revamp the Auror department with a vengeance. He was doing brilliantly there, his natural paranoia after the war rivaling old Mad Eye Moody's. Neville and Luna had some sort of Ministry job as well, though they could never discuss what it was that they were working on in public. Ginny had known she could never compete with the "real" heroes of the war. She was famous, but only in general terms as a Weasley. More of her fame came from who she'd dated and the role her family had played in the war than from her Quidditch abilities, though she was starting to come into her own there as well.

Still, it rankled. She hadn't been _allowed_ to participate, and had been belittled for what little she had been allowed to contribute. Only Tonks had seemed to honestly appreciate her efforts, what little they had been.

Maybe if she had a larger role to play, she wouldn't have felt so discontent. Maybe she wouldn't have noticed that the grand promises made weren't being kept. It was supposed to be a better world after the war ended, but she couldn't see any differences. Oh, there wasn't a nightly curfew for everyone to follow or strictly limited communications. Regulations weren't as tight as they had been several years ago in the height of the war. There wasn't that feeling of impending doom every time the news was posted.

Even so, she wasn't sure it was happening the way it should have. Maybe she was too naïve, but it didn't feel right. It didn't feel _fair._

Ginny made inquiries about the rebuilding, the newly minted laws and the shape of the new Wizarding World that was rising around them. She remembered how horrible it had been, the dread that she woke up every day with. She remembered the way that law and order could so easily fall into chaos. She didn't know how everyone else could forget so easily, could brush everything aside and believe the empty promises from the Ministry. The more she inquired, the more she learned that regulations _were_ as tight as they used to be, and activities _were_ as limited as they used to be – for Slytherins and former Death Eaters only. No one else was singled out quite so sharply.

She wasn't sure she liked what she saw.

She saw the way the former Death Eaters were being treated, the way the world was reforming into just as narrow-minded and cynical place as it had been before. She had to do something. She just didn't know what.

Ginny had gone to Muggle London hoping to get away from the Wizarding World for a while and sort out her thoughts. This was new territory for her. Sure, a Weasley was known for bucking some trends, but that tended to be pranks rather than policy making. She certainly didn't have the knowledge enough to do it and she didn't have the cachet on her own to make anyone change their set opinions.

At least in Muggle London, she was any other girl. She could sit in a comfortable café and ponder her thoughts over tea that had rapidly gone cool. She could try to puzzle out her next step, even if she hadn't the foggiest idea what it would be. But no Prophet reporter would find her in such a place and happily conclude that she was pining over Harry Potter. That was the farthest thing from the truth. She had tried, really she did, but it wasn't meant to be. Like everything else from her childhood, that dream just hadn't measured up to the reality of the thing. Just as he wasn't truly capable of shaping the government, he wasn't truly capable of being there for anyone else just after the war.

Ginny ignored it when a shadow fell over the table. Wait staff in this café was fairly particular, and she had been sitting there for some time alone.

"Hullo. Is this seat taken?"

Ginny looked up, the voice sounding awfully familiar. The sight of Draco Malfoy was startling to say the least. He was lithe and taller than she remembered, with blond hair so light it was nearly white. His eyes were a flat gray, and he was dressed impeccably in Muggle clothes. He looked as if he belonged in this world, in this café, and she was merely pretending. She was suddenly very aware of her Weasley red hair, her brown eyes and the freckles across her nose. She was aware that she didn't know as much about Muggles as he always assumed that she did because of her father's obsession with their gadgets.

He seemed to expect some kind of response, so she merely nodded slowly. She didn't know what to say. He had never talked to her at school, really. Weasleys had always been beneath his notice, and what little had gone her way was always acrimonious. Then again, her interactions with him hadn't been any better. It was hardly an auspicious start.

He sat down beside her. "This is probably the best café on this street, did you know that?"

"I hadn't known that," Ginny temporized, trying to figure out what was happening. He was being polite to her when he didn't have to? "It's my first time at this café."

"Ah. I come here all the time. Lovely biscuits, too." He signaled for one of the wait staff to arrive and take his order for tea and biscuits. Ginny kept her mouth shut, though she noted the ease in his movements and the utter comfort he had with Muggle convention. How had that happened? No one knew about it, surely.

"So you frequent Muggle London?" she asked, not sure of what to say.

"It's nice to be somewhere and not be known for someone else's achievement, isn't it?" he asked mildly. He grimaced slightly. "Or _un_achievement, as the case may be."

She was acutely aware of the gossip about him, that the Prophet columns always gleefully raked him over the coals for his callous treatment of his society girlfriends. Their pictures were always tearful, even if they could never bring themselves to call him more than a rake.

"So why are you off in Muggle London? I would have thought you'd be tucked away somewhere safe, everything all settled."

"Except it's not, is it?" Ginny replied without thinking. She looked down at her cold tea as the waiter returned with Draco's tea and biscuits, which he generously offered to share with her. She took one, taking a small bite out it. "What's this about, Malfoy? It's not as if we've ever really talked at school. It can't be about catching up."

His gray eyes were almost silver in color, Ginny realized. Shadows seemed to drift in and out of them, and that quicksilver look must have been what drew in all those society girls. He was handsome and he had a reputation, and it must have been maddening to have that attention focused on them.

"Perhaps I'd like to rectify that," Draco answered, voice soft. "Perhaps I want to know more. I'm left wondering why someone would want to be anonymous when the spotlight shining on her is always so positive."

"We were never friends. We never really talked."

He shrugged and sipped his tea. "So why not start now? Why not tell me one thing that's true that isn't on the Wireless or in the Prophet. One true thing."

"This isn't the way it's supposed to be," Ginny found herself saying. She almost wanted to kick herself when she heard herself speaking, but it was far too late to take back the words. "They promise us everything and deliver nothing, and we're supposed to be grateful."

Whatever he had been expecting her to say, that wasn't it. She could see the surprise in his silver eyes, the blink as he tried to recover himself. "That's not something most people would say," he temporized, reaching for a biscuit.

"Life is supposed to be better, isn't it? We're not supposed to be afraid anymore, we're not supposed to want any better. The war was supposed to fix things." Ginny leaned forward in her chair as she warmed to the topic. "But nothing's changed, really, not how it counts. The way things are going, it never will."

"That sounds dangerously like treason," Draco remarked slowly.

Ginny froze in the midst of taking a bite of biscuit, eyes wide. Every freckle across her nose stood out, and she didn't know what to think. The biscuit suddenly tasted like bile in her mouth, and she could barely even swallow it.

Draco took pity on her. "You didn't know how that would sound, did you?" Ginny couldn't breathe, and merely shook her head. "Not that you're wrong, of course," Draco continued in that mild tone of his. It was as if they were discussing any old thing and not governmental injustices, which seemed all kinds of odd to Ginny. If the situation had happened to anyone else, she would think it was a joke. But she knew how paranoid the government could be now. She knew how badly it would look.

"This is assuming that I meant anything by it," Ginny said, once she was able to swallow the piece of biscuit. Her voice sounded weak and hollow to her own ears. "We're just talking, and it doesn't really mean anything. Nothing can be proven."

Draco's grin was almost blinding, and Ginny could feel her stomach drop down to her toes. Her stomach roiled almost painfully, and her chest was so tight she could barely breathe. The last time she felt this way was during the final battle at Hogwarts, just after seeing her brother's dead body in the hallway. It _hurt,_ and she couldn't even begin to explain why.

"Isn't that the way change starts, though?" he offered gently. "And if you're serious about it, by the way, there are better things to do."

"What do you mean?"

"Come now," Draco replied. There was a mocking edge to his tone. "You're _shaking,_ Weasley. You look ready to fall apart at the seams. That's hardly what a revolutionary should look like, is it?" She watched incredulously as he sipped his tea. "If you really want to start changing things, you should know what you're doing so you don't look so terrified."

"So how's it done, then?" she challenged. She could have kicked herself again, but her mouth seemed to be working without her brain's input.

"Well, first thing is, you'd best know what you're talking about. What do you want changed? How do you want to go about it?" He leaned back in his chair and nibbled delicately on a biscuit as if they were discussing the weather. His smile was soft. "Or are you simply going to sit there and talk and do nothing?"

"Oh, and you'd do anything about it?"

"I'd stand something to gain, wouldn't I?" he answered softly.

"I don't see you harmed right now," Ginny replied tartly, thinking of the gossip columns.

His face darkened. "No, you wouldn't."

Ginny could tell she had stepped over an invisible line, but didn't know how she could have done so. She watched helplessly as he stood up. "If you're serious and not just playing, come back this time next week," Draco told her. His voice carried a steely edge to it. She watched as he dropped Muggle money on the table, enough to cover their tea and biscuits. "If you're not serious, if you're only talk, don't bother."

He left without looking back, leaving Ginny to wonder if this was the next step she had been hoping for after all.

***  
***


	2. Preparations

"I almost didn't think you would be here," Draco commented, sliding into the seat beside Ginny the following week. She was very pale in her dark Muggle clothing, and she had a folded piece of parchment in her hand. "What's that?"

"I've been trying to learn," she replied stiffly, holding the parchment in a white-knuckled grip. "I meant it. I just don't know how to go about it, is all."

"Come along, then," Draco said, standing. "You can't bring that about here. It won't fit in with the Muggle things, and you don't want to draw undue attention to yourself." When she didn't rise right away, Draco rolled his eyes and grasped her hand. "Come on, Weasley. Now's not the time to have your courage fail you."

"It hasn't," she snapped, rising to her feet. She could feel her cheeks grow warm and pink, but he had already turned away and was heading out the door. "Where are we going?"

He led them to a nearby bookstore. "If you're going to need notes when we talk, then you're going to need something much more appropriate," he murmured. Ginny could see that they were heading to a section marked _Journals,_ and her breath stuck fast in her chest. Did he know? Could he know? Could he have been involved somehow?

She didn't trust him, but her gut instincts didn't tell her that he was lying. She had learned the hard way that some people's intentions didn't line up with their words. The knowledge probably colored all of her interactions since childhood, but it was something that had served her well during the war. She wasn't naïve, not by a long shot, but she wasn't an expert at deceit either. She could tell a believable lie if she had to – she wasn't the Weasley twins' little sister for nothing – but it wasn't something she preferred to do. Ginny wanted to do the right thing, but knew that it wasn't something that would happen easily. Public opinion was still too swayed against former Death Eaters and their families. Still, she knew more about the inner workings of the war than the average person. She didn't turn up her nose like so many others who had either forgotten or never knew the role the Malfoys played in that last pivotal year.

"All right, then, pick something," he said impatiently, mistaking her terror for reluctance. But Ginny had never written in a journal since her first year, and had avoided anything that looked like a diary. She knew better now, but it didn't mean that she meant to tempt fate, either. She looked up at Draco helplessly, not knowing how to begin explaining herself. "Oh, why not get something horridly Gryffindor?" he added, rolling his eyes.

Ginny grabbed the first thing she could find, a book with a red cover and gold filigree patterning on the front cover. She handed it to Draco for his approval, nearly smiling at his long-suffering sigh of impatience. "How's this, then?"

"Terrible, but it'll do," he replied.

"Fine, then. What would you pick out?"

She had meant it as a joke to settle her own spirits, but Draco seemed to take it seriously. He contemplated the display, settling on a fairly unassuming book at first look. It had a brown cover in a soft suede, and the pages inside had geometric or flowery designs along the borders. The cover matched her eyes. Ginny looked up, blinking in surprise. "It's lovely. I like it a lot."

Draco swapped journals, then selected a fountain pen before leading her to a section titled _Politics._ "All right, we're going to have to get you started understanding the basics."

"But I thought we were just going to talk. What does this have to do with it?" Ginny asked, confused. She watched him peruse the shelves with a sharp eye and nearly shivered at the intensity in them. She had never seen this side of him at school.

"If there's one thing I learned from my father," he said, a trace of bitterness in his voice, "it's that anything worth doing is worth doing well. If we're going to do this, then you should know what you're doing. You'd be forgiven, you know. I might be killed."

Ginny's mouth had gone dry. She hadn't stopped to think about the risk involved for Draco if he was caught undermining the government. "Why help me, then?"

He found another book on the shelf that he felt was appropriate and returned with four in his hands. "These are all introductory texts," he said, taking the diary and fountain pen back from her. "These should help you get started."

Ginny watched helplessly as he paid for all the items and carried them out of the store. He led them back to the café and ordered tea and biscuits. "Why are you helping me, then?" she asked after the waiter left. "Why risk yourself that way?" _We aren't friends,_ she really wanted to say. _Why would you sacrifice yourself if you don't have to?_

His smile was a mirthless caricature of the one pasted across the Prophet gossip columns every week. "You can't save the world by yourself. No one else thinks it's broken."

"Why you, though? Why now?"

_Because you really do mean it,_ he wanted to say. Instead, he shrugged as the waiter returned with their order. "It's still something that needs to be done," he told her, slowly sipping his tea. He watched her do the same, confusion etched across her features. She meant well, she just didn't know how to get started. "It can't be just us, either, you know," he mentioned casually. She looked at him warily. "I don't know as much as you think I do," he said, putting down his teacup. "And something like this would have to be subtle and well planned. It would take more than just you on the front lines."

"So you mean to get help?"

"Of course. I'll ask about and see what I can do. The best thing you can do is get yourself better acquainted with what politics are like."

The rest of their time together was spent talking about random social things, and Ginny found herself wondering about Draco. The Prophet gossip columns weren't always kind, and especially not if his latest conquest was a media darling. Their paths had never really crossed after the war, and she had never known him to be thoughtful or fair. Still, her gut wasn't screaming any alarms as he spoke with her. There was an intensity about him that was shocking, a pent-up frustration that was held tightly in check. It showed in his quicksilver eyes, in the rapid hand gestures as he spoke sometimes. As open as Ginny was about most things, he was closed off and private. Draco kept himself strictly guarded, but that did nothing but add another layer to the rake mystique. She could see how those flighty girls were drawn in. She could see how they could misinterpret the tension as barely restrained passion. She could see them trying to figure out if they were the ones to catch him. Ginny found herself staring at his mouth and eyes closely, the tilt of his lips telling her how he really felt about his words.

There was a tendril of fear in her stomach, but it had nothing to do with this plan to influence Ministry legislature. It had everything to do with the fact that Draco was handsome and not nearly as much of a prat as she had thought him to be. It had everything to do with the fact that it had been years since she had last been kissed properly, and her hormones couldn't help but notice his form. He had a runner's build and carried himself with an air of confidence.

Oh, dear. She was going to have to be very careful around him during their afternoon teas.

***

"I thought those trips to Muggle London were supposed to be relaxing," Narcissa commented as Draco strode into her study. His brows were furrowed and he barely paid attention to the pattern she was embroidering, which wasn't like him at all. He usually went out of his way to pay some kind of compliment, as if to make up for the stinging remarks in society.

Draco paused, lips pursed slightly with his head cocked to the side. It was a mannerism he had inherited from her. Luckily, there were few he had inherited from his father. "I've met someone," he began slowly.

Narcissa lofted an eyebrow and resumed her embroidery. "I fail to see the concern that has."

"I'm trying to decide how best to proceed."

"That's not like you at all," Narcissa replied archly, tugging on the thread in her hands. "When it comes to people, your instincts are well honed."

"It's Ginevra Weasley."

Narcissa looked up sharply, lips pressed thin. "Is this a dalliance, then?" Draco shook his head, his expression almost miserable. "What, then?"

"I think... I think we've started some kind of friendship."

She put aside her embroidery and gestured for Draco to sit beside her. "You wouldn't be troubled if it was an ordinary friendship. You've had friends that were women before."

"She wants to change things," Draco began slowly, trying to choose the best words to explain. "She is idealistic enough to think that we all deserve better than what we've gotten since the war ended. I agree with her, but she thinks she can change it."

Narcissa touched Draco's sleeve gently. "And your concern is whether it will happen or not."

"I want to think it can," Draco replied almost helplessly. "I want to think that she knows enough people that she can sway, and that things will get better." He covered her hand with his. "You deserve so much better than this, Mother."

Her smile was soft, and she turned her hand to clasp his. "That's sweet of you."

"I don't know how you take it," he continued, distress in his voice. "It isn't right."

Her grip on his hand was almost steely, and Draco stopped in surprise. "People see what they want to see, Draco," Narcissa began. "Have you forgotten that?" She waited as he shook his head, though his brows were knitted in confusion again. "Society has always been a game, you realize. It works with subtlety. That is something your father has forgotten," she added, voice laced with bitterness. "That's why you worry."

"I know there's more I can be doing," Draco told his mother. "I can do _something."_

Narcissa released his hand and picked up her embroidery again. It was a flawless red rose nestled amidst thorns. "You think me helpless, don't you?" She caught Draco's guilty look and flashed him a smile. "I tell you about those awful matrons at the charity events, the terrible slights they visit upon me. I tell you about their horridly common families, those homely daughters they think to put on the marriage mart as if they were Pureblood. I see you look at them, I see you calculate your odds. I mention to their mothers, the cows, how young and fit you are, a fine husband you would make to the right girl. I lament at the lack of prospective daughters-in-law there are, that the Malfoy fortune would never be passed down. I see their eyes light up in greed, and they don't bar your way when you come calling." Her smile now was icy, and Draco found himself chilled and mesmerized by it. "You find your satisfaction in breaking the hearts of these simpleton girls. I find mine in watching their mothers dissolve in tears."

"I never knew," Draco whispered. "I just... I couldn't let them keep on hurting you."

Narcissa's smile turned tender and she put down her embroidery to touch his face. "I know how much you've suffered in this, in ways no one could ever see. I know how much effort it's been to try to keep the worst of it from me."

"I'll do this," Draco told her earnestly. "For you."

"For yourself as well," Narcissa told him gently. "You'll be living in this new world as much as I will, and you may find yourself at the center of it."

"I'll need your help," he confessed. "There's only so much I can do alone."

"Of course," Narcissa replied with a genuine smile. She grasped his face with both hands in a possessive gesture that had always comforted him as a child. "You've always had it. You've never had to ask."

***

Draco found his father that afternoon at the stables. Lucius Malfoy was a recluse, but he did even that in style. His mornings were spent with his prized dogs, and afternoons after a leisurely lunch were spent with his horses. Lucius was examining one of his studs with a critical eye, and Draco remembered that look all too well. As a child and teen, he had often fell prey to it and felt lacking somehow. Lucius had a knack for shaming him to do better whereas Narcissa would gently push him in directions she thought best for him.

"He looks to be coming along well," Draco commented, approaching the stables. He didn't actually want to talk to his father about this, but Lucius had so many more connections in the financial and legal world.

"He'll do," Lucius replied in crisp tones. There was a faint air of disapproval about him, one that had persisted since the war's end. Years of bitterness and resentment had crept into his very bones; Lucius Malfoy did not appreciate the isolated life he now led.

"I wonder if more can be done," Draco began, treading carefully.

"There's always more to be done," Lucius snapped, turning to face Draco. "It's not as if there's anything else here to do."

"What if there could be?" Draco asked, seizing the opportunity to ask after those connections. "What if there could be something done behind the scenes?"

"Speak plainly, boy," Lucius snapped.

"I've met someone connected who is displeased with the current state of things. With the proper introductions, changes could be made. A little guidance could go a long way with this."

Lucius' eyes narrowed as he contemplated his son. Draco was like Narcissa, without the ruthless streak that he had cultivated. This way of speaking was rather like her l, but it hinted at a sinister purpose. Draco was the spitting image of Lucius from his younger days, even if his temperament and outlook was wholly different. Still, he was young yet. He could be shaped.

"I'm speaking of Ginevra Weasley," Draco added.

Draco watched as his father's expression sharpened and a slow predatory smile spread across his features. He suddenly felt very protective of Ginny. Draco was very aware of his father's hatred of all things Weasley. It was still something that seemed _odd_ somehow, in a way that he couldn't quite place his finger on. It was something that made Draco promise himself that she would never cross paths with his father if he could help it.

"Oh, that may do nicely," Lucius drawled with all of his former superiority. "That may do nicely, indeed. The girl has the ear of many an important figure, and she's such an unassuming slip of a girl. It nearly worked once," he added under his breath.

"Father?"

Lucius's expression snapped to Draco's. "Introductions can certainly be made. She can be shaped, that one," he declared with a nod. "You've chosen well."

Draco didn't correct his father's impression and merely nodded. "I have work ahead of me," he offered. He didn't like his father's speculative gleam, but he would have to deal with it for now.

Lucius strode forward, prized stallion forgotten. "Of course you do. You'll need my expertise."

Together, they headed back to the Manor.

***

Ginny looked at the pile of books on politics and could feel her heart sink down into the pit of her stomach. _What am I doing?_ she thought miserably. _I play Quidditch for a living, for Merlin's sake! I can't do this!_

She looked about her little flat with a bleak expression. It was small, just a one bedroom flat with a private Floo connection to keep out strangers that would randomly try to visit to talk about any of her relatives or Harry Potter. It was sunny and bright, filled with plants Neville had given her when she first moved out of the Burrow. She had furniture that was comfortable and enough space in the kitchen so she could cook up a storm if she was so inclined. It was everything she had wanted when she moved, even if there were so few visitors to it. Her teammates, her family, her few close friends. She spent more time at the Burrow or at practice than at home, and it was something she had always taken for granted. "I'm free here," she said aloud. She knew it was more than what others had, and she was feeling guilty for it now. Even so, she doubted herself. She had more enthusiasm than knowledge, and had mentioned her private thoughts to Draco on impulse. Luckily, he hadn't laughed her off or carted her in to the Ministry on a report.

_Anything worth doing is worth doing well,_ he had said, face earnest.

She had been sheltered during the worst of the war. She had tried to push her way into the Order, had tried to _make_ them see her. Most of the Order members seemed to smile and think it was cute, yet another Weasley trying to do something. They hadn't allowed her to really do anything dangerous, hadn't allowed her to really understand what was going on. Maybe it had something to do with the diary her first year, though everyone always conveniently forgot the lasting impact it had. They forgot the summer at St. Mungo's, the nightmares and the shifty glances about the household. They forgot the soft whispers at the walls late at night before St. Mungo's had that bed available for her. They forgot everything when she came back, had smiled their smiles and assumed that everything was better and she had forgotten as well.

Only, she hadn't forgotten. It was still there, that terrible knowledge. She knew what darkness was like, and knew it wasn't what the Prophet was painting for the public. She _knew_ in a way that most wouldn't, and she _understood._

"You know it's only a matter of time, really," Tonks would tell her. Tonks was the only one that seemed to understand her frustration. She was a woman and one of the few prominent Aurors that were part of the Order. Maybe it helped her understand that Ginny only wanted to help in any way she could, to do _something_ other than stand on the sidelines and play the helpless victim to be saved. Tonks never made fun of her, had always tried to find something for her to do so that she could feel part of the Order. "The next thing you know, you'll be in the thick of it and everything will work itself out." And then she would trip over her own two feet and the two of them would laugh. Ginny had always felt better after discussing it with Tonks, but the older woman was long dead now.

She had visited Teddy a few times, always feeling vaguely guilty when she did so. Andromeda Tonks had lost a husband, daughter and son-in-law over the course of the war. She had lost so much more before that, too. Ginny had only lost a brother, and while it still hurt, she felt as if her loss was so much less in comparison. Andromeda seemed to carry her grief around her like a cloak, and Ginny didn't know how to approach her. Harry was Teddy's godfather, though he was more often doing his Auror responsibilities than spending time with Teddy. Ginny didn't have any claim on Teddy's time, and Andromeda's hollow eyes had always seemed to burn through her when she tried to visit.

Teddy was related to Draco, Ginny knew. He and Tonks had been cousins, and so Teddy would be a nephew of sorts to him. It almost didn't seem fair that Draco had grown up knowing and loving both of his parents when Teddy never would. Teddy deserved more than a grieving grandmother and an absent godfather as family. Ginny had known so much love and wonder as a child, overprotection notwithstanding. Teddy wouldn't have the same thing, wouldn't know that it was a loss. It didn't seem fair that Draco had grown up with _everything._ She had her parents but no money, and Teddy had no parents and a tiny Ministry pension for the deaths of his parents. Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy continually bent the laws to his own gain while her family struggled to stay afloat.

But that wasn't fair, either. Draco wasn't his father. Draco didn't know the depths to which his father sank in service to Voldemort. Draco didn't understand what life was like without money or prestige. He didn't know any better, just as Teddy wouldn't.

Ginny picked up the first book Draco had bought for her. He was doing his best in all of this. He didn't have to help her in her mad scheme. He didn't have to make sure she did it properly. He didn't have to take her seriously. But he was, and so she would as well.

Anything worth doing was worth doing well.

***

"You blighter. I've missed you."

Draco smiled at Pansy and accepted the glass she handed him. She was still in her silk nightgown and wrapper, and she was already roaring drunk. Draco didn't intend to actually drink the brandy in the glass, but accepted it to be polite. Pansy downed her glass all at once, not even grimacing from the burn along her throat. "I didn't think I would be welcome."

"Oh, Chesterfield absolutely abhors most of our former circle. But he remembers your Mum's works and thinks that a Malfoy could be such an _improving_ presence on me." Pansy wrinkled her nose and poured herself another glass of brandy.

"Ah. And Iris?"

Pansy's face fell and her grip on her glass tightened. "I don't know."

Draco's brow furrowed. "I don't understand. Why wouldn't she owl you?"

"Because she can't. A condition of the marriage," Pansy spat bitterly. "I save Park Place but have nothing to do with it ever again." She gestured wildly around the room. "Chesterfield is all I have now, every dilapidated brick."

"How is he, then?"

"Perfectly awful," Pansy told him cheerfully. She tucked her long black hair behind her ears and smiled at him as if she had told a joke. "He can't get it up and blames me, he throws galleons at me like it would get an heir and I loathe the man." She leaned forward and pulled at the ribbon holding her wrapper in place. "But he isn't why you came to see me, is it?"

"Pansy, you know you're like a sister to me now," Draco said gently, pushing aside her questing hands. "I couldn't."

She downed her glass in one gulp and threw it at the fireplace. "To hell with you, then!"

Draco fell silent and simply watched as she put her hands to her face and began to sob. They were great, wracking tears of pain, and he didn't know how to help her. Gossip had merely said she married for money and drank herself into a stupor daily. There weren't any details more than that, and he had never thought to ask for more. Now he felt ridiculous.

"Why are you here, then?" Pansy moaned. "You awful rotter, why do you remind me of what I can't ever have?"

Draco stood and folded her into his arms. He tucked his chin on top of her head and sighed. "You know Blaise still fancies you, don't you? I just can't do that for you."

Pansy pulled back a bit and sniffled. "He does?"

"Shall I Floo him for you and check?" Draco asked.

She shook her head. "Some things a girl should do for herself." She crossed the room to the Floo connection. Her invitation left nothing to the imagination, and Blaise was there in no time. She dropped to her knees immediately and unbuckled Blaise's belt.

Draco turned away to give them a modicum of privacy, despite Pansy's wicked remarks. He drank his brandy, his friends shagging noisily behind him. He supposed he should have left the study, but didn't think Chesterfield would appreciate him wandering in the mansion.

He waited until Blaise had collapsed onto the couch and Pansy settled herself across it, her head lying in Blaise's lap. Draco smiled at the two of them. Once, they had all been close. Following the war, it had been too difficult to keep up contact. "I wanted your help," Draco began without preamble. "I've met someone that wants to change the way the laws are, and I think if we all did this together, it could actually work."

Blaise lofted an eyebrow at Draco. "That's particularly dangerous. It's not like you."

Draco shrugged. "It's not terribly dangerous, really. Just a little manipulation to the right people and we can push our ideas through."

"Who is it?" Blaise asked, ever the practical man. Pansy merely looked confused.

"Ginevra Weasley?"

"Do you want to get us killed?" Pansy screeched, shooting upright to a seated position. Blaise tried to stroke her back to soothe her. "You're insane!"

"She approached me first with the idea, hasn't a clue where to begin."

"It can't be done!" Pansy cried, shaking her head.

Draco's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course it can. She has the will to do this properly and is set on this course. While she's untutored, she _could_ whisper in the right ears. And she does know all right ears, of course. Why, with the right sort of guidance, who knows what we might be able to do?"

Blaise watched Draco curiously. "Why bring us into it?"

"I trust you," Draco said flatly. "I can't do this alone with her, and I'll need as many supports and introductions as I can. Mum and my father are doing their bit to lay the foundations with their generation of contacts, but there's new blood in the Ministry as well."

"You can't mean to have us go to the Ministry," Pansy wailed.

Draco watched in amusement as Blaise pushed her back into her former lying position and stroked her hair gently. It calmed her, and she merely looked at Draco with large, hurt eyes. "I don't, Pansy. But she's a Weasley. She doesn't have the finesse that we've got. She'll need to be taught, you know. And really, we're the ones that would benefit from these changes. We should push the ones we know we'll need."

"Chesterfield would never allow it," Pansy declared at the same time Blaise said "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

Draco smiled at them grimly. "I'm absolutely sure. And Chesterfield wouldn't have any problems if you were to help Mother with some of her charity work, I'm sure. And if you disappear in the Manor for an hour or two when my friend Blaise happens to visit..."

"Why not ask?" Blaise asked her, stroking her hair gently. "It could work if you ask nicely."

Pansy clapped her hands like a child. "I'll do it!" she chortled, running from the room.

Blaise looked at Draco with a critical eye. It didn't sting as much as his father's had. "How often have you seen her?"

"Pansy? First time today in years. I didn't think Chesterfield would approve."

Blaise snorted. "Not her, you prat. The Weasley girl."

Draco shrugged negligently. "Twice? She showed up in my favorite café one day and we just started talking about it. She's the one that brought it up."

"And you just happen to think this is a wonderful plan?" Blaise asked with an eyebrow raised. "You used to think the girl was pretty."

"So?"

"Isn't she still? It's hard to tell sometimes with all that Quidditch gear. Fabulous player, though."

_Chaser,_ Draco wanted to say, but kept his mouth shut. He shrugged again. "It's more important who she's connected to. This isn't some conquest to break an idiot's heart. This is for all of us, so we won't have to continue suffering these indignities. I know you're suffering with that property reform bill they've passed."

Blaise's jaw was tight, but he said nothing for a long moment. "Is that all this is?"

"Of course it is. Why would it be more?"

His eyebrow raised, Blaise looked at Draco mockingly. "Why wouldn't it be? Why not take advantage of the proximity? That's not like you."

"There's a goal at hand that's more important than bedding some girl."

"This isn't some girl. This is a _Weasley._ If there was ever a name that could elevate your family's social standing now, that would be it."

Draco shook his head. "No. Our connection isn't going to be known, not like that. It would undermine whatever credibility we try to build for her."

"You've thought about this," Blaise commented.

Draco's reply was cut off by Pansy flouncing back into the room. "He said yes! He thinks your Mum would be a tempering influence, he said. Bother that temper. Give that here," she added, noticing that Blaise had reached for the brandy decanter.

"You've had enough, Pans," Draco chided, watching her pour herself a glass. Blaise frowned at her but remained silent.

"Ah, but we've a plot to plan and think," Pansy sing-songed. She downed the glass and then straddled Blaise. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and sighed as his arms went around her. "It might work. I could see you, and this horrid world can look so much better without the brandy. I almost can't believe it."

Draco smiled grimly at Blaise's alarmed expression. He lifted his glass and finally took a sip. "To our great endeavor, then. May it help us all."

***  
***


	3. The Tipping Point

Ginny had the Muggle diary in her purse. She had been diligent about taking notes from the books and about recent developments in the Ministry legislature that she had been able to glean from her father or Percy. She had tried very hard to make it seem natural, and had been surprised to find it too easy to get her family to talk about work. They _wanted_ to talk, since no one else in the Ministry seemed to care what they actually thought about the tax legislation that would be proposed prior to the summer vacation. It would actually be contemplated in the fall session, so no one was truly serious about discussing it yet.

She was playing a game with herself when she caught the flash of white-blond hair. She was looking at the other café patrons, trying to figure out their lives and their relationships to each other. While it was an innocent game she used to play a lot, now it was something that would help to hone her observational skills. She would need to know how she appeared to others, just as she would have to learn to recognize what she observed.

She was shocked to see the guests that Draco had brought with him, but kept her smile pasted on her face. "I'm not sure if you knew them from school," he began blithely, "but this is Blaise Zabini and this was Pansy Parkinson—"

"Chesterfield now," she said as she fell into a seat, wrinkling her nose. "The awful man."

Ginny blinked in surprised. "Are you drunk?"

"Only a little," Pansy chirped sunnily. She smiled at Blaise, her hand coming to rest on his thigh somewhere beneath the table's edge. "Only four glasses this morn."

"You said you would cut down," Blaise chided her, concern evident.

"Oh, but he was so horrid this morning," Pansy replied, covering her eyes with her hand. "I really needed more today, I really did."

"I have a letter from Iris," Blaise commented after an awkward moment, not sure what to say.

As Pansy squeaked in surprise, Draco leaned closer to Ginny. "I doubt you'd know this, but Pansy had to marry Chesterfield to save her family's home. Part of the deal was, she would have to cut all ties with her family, including her younger sister Iris." Draco nodded at the letter in Blaise's hand and watched as Pansy snatched it greedily to read. "She's in America, attending university. She had to leave England after she finished up Hogwarts. They're a disconnected society there, so no one cares that she's a Parkinson. We didn't even know Pans couldn't owl her until last week."

"That's awful," Ginny murmured.

"The things we go through for our families," Draco murmured shortly, moving slightly away from her. Ginny missed the warmth of him almost immediately. He signaled a waiter and put in an order for everyone.

"Oh, this is lovely," Pansy gushed, looking up with the letter in hand. "I used to think America was utter rubbish. She's doing so well and she's _happy."_

"I'm glad for you," Ginny replied, thinking of what Draco had just told her. She watched as Pansy threw her arms around Blaise and kissed him thoroughly. Cheeks pinked, she turned to Draco. "I thought she was married?"

"Chesterfield's eighty if he's a day," Draco replied dryly.

"Ah."

Once the tea arrived, the four were able to settle a bit and begin talk about the proposed legislation that would be discussed in the fall. Ginny surprised herself by remembering all of the notes she had taken. She actually understood most of what she was talking about, and she could see the grudging respect on Blaise's face.

"I suppose I should thank you, Miss Weasley," Blaise said, shaking his head. "When Draco first mentioned this plan, I thought you were pulling his leg."

"If we're going to discuss this kind of thing, you might as well call me Ginny. Or Ginevra," she added, knowing that Draco refused to call her by anything else once he had discovered what her true first name was. _It's more regal,_ he had said, _It suits you._

He smiled genuinely. "Then call me Blaise."

"But honestly," Pansy interrupted, a hand on Blaise's arm. "We really must do something about you, Ginny." She smiled winningly. "If we're going to do this, you have to shine."

"Shine?" Ginny asked faintly.

"But of course! I know just the place. You probably still go to Madam Malkin's, don't you?"

Ginny blinked in surprise. "Where else would I go?"

Pansy smacked herself in the forehead. "Oh, I absolutely must spend those Chesterfield galleons to do you up properly. And here in this realm, too! Draco, dear, what's an appallingly expensive place for fashion?" She abruptly stood and swayed slightly on her feet. "We have to go and get this girl looking fabulous."

Ginny stood, concerned about Pansy. "You don't have to..."

Blaise had stood as well, and put an arm around Pansy's waist. "There's time enough, Pans. You look fabulous enough for you both as it is."

"Yes, but we should be beautiful. Fabulously beautiful, with all eyes on us and wondering how in Merlin's grave did we get so lovely. Yes," she said with a firm nod, staring at Ginny. "Lots of admirers and beautiful clothes. Lots and lots and lots of beautiful clothes and all the little things that go with them to match, what's the word?"

"Accessories," Blaise supplied helpfully, stabilizing her. Pansy nodded and smiled beatifically.

Ginny sighed when she saw Draco dropping Muggle money on the table to cover the charges. It was sad, really. Pansy didn't have a real relationship, just an overflowing wallet and an empty home filled with things she hoped would make her happy. That certainly wasn't what Ginny wanted in her life, and it was depressing that Pansy had to settle for less than everything. _But some of that is how the Ministry was after war,_ she told herself, falling into step outside the café. _This is what we're trying to fix. This is exactly what I need to be doing._

"Don't look so glum," Draco offered helpfully. He took her arm gently. "It really won't be so bad. For all of her drunken talk, she has an excellent fashion sense. It won't be so terrible. Think of it as a thank you gift."

Ginny looked up into his quicksilver eyes, a slight smile on her lips. "A thank you?"

"She hasn't been this happy in a long time," Draco said slowly. "She's been utterly miserable and locked away in that stuffy mansion with that husband of hers. Now she's getting out and about, she's smiling and talking and not looking like the walking dead."

"It was that bad?"

Draco nodded. "Not everyone would see it that way, but she would. She's a social creature, and to be shut away isn't good for her." He frowned slightly. "Most Slytherins are social, believe it or not. We just can't be social with other groups because they fear us."

_They._ It was the Ministry now, the other Hogwarts houses. Ginny remembered keenly that not so long ago she and her friends had been using _they_ to refer to Slytherins and Death Eaters alike.

Draco took her hand in his and guided her into an expensive shop in Muggle London. It made her acutely aware that they had all looked like two couples that were friends had spent some time together in the café. Now it looked like two friendly couples shopping together, the boyfriends making long suffering faces as they held pocketbooks and made appreciative noises as the girlfriends tried on new clothing.

Ginny's heart fluttered in her chest and her mouth was dry. Still, she couldn't turn away from him, couldn't let go of his hand. She didn't care how it looked, though she knew she should have cared. She should have thought about it. But all she could think about was Pansy's tongue inside Blaise's mouth at tea, and what it might be like to do the same to Draco.

Bugger it all, she was infatuated with Draco Malfoy.

***

"You're looking tired, dear," Molly commented as she put dessert out at the dinner table.

Ginny shrugged and smiled up at her mother. "Hard practice today, Mum. But we're trying out some new plays before the next season starts, so we need to put in longer hours." She looked over at her father, who was reading a bit of parchment at the table. "I thought we weren't supposed to bring work to the dinner table," she teased.

Arthur flushed a bit and laughed. "Oh, I don't know why I bother half the time. It's some tax law that Flaherty was talking about today, and I wanted to read up a bit on it. I never had to discuss tax law before all this."

Ginny smiled and held out her hand. "Is it difficult? Let me see."

He laughed and put it away. "Oh, you can't see official business, Ginny. In any case, it most likely won't be discussed before the summer session begins."

"Well, then, see if you can explain it to me. If you can explain it, then you really understand it."

Percy snorted from his place at the table. "It's dead boring, Ginny, nothing like Quidditch."

"And I suppose housing zones are so much more interesting?" she asked, voice arch. Percy flushed and Ginny laughed at him. "You aren't much better. You went from filing the paperwork to being the Minister's assistant. Now you're expected to know this, too."

"Well, I happen to be a quick study," Percy replied haughtily, digging into his dessert.

"Oh, hush. No talk of work or business," Molly interrupted, sitting down beside Arthur.

"I've been thinking about maybe doing charity work," Ginny began, digging into her own dessert. She could see she had their attention, and shrugged nonchalantly. "Once we have this play down, I'll have more time during the day to do something besides Quidditch. Maybe some kind of charity might be a good start."

"I think that's a lovely idea," Molly said with a smile. "Shall I look into some for you?"

Ginny shook her head. "Oh, I'll look about a bit. I have to see what won't take up a lot of time at first, what I'm interested in."

From there, the conversation turned to Ron and Hermione's first baby, who would be due in the next few months. They staunchly refused to tell anyone the gender, and Molly was beside herself trying to guess by Hermione's rounded shape. Ginny smiled and tried to play along, though she couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to be pregnant. Unfortunately, her thoughts then turned to the only possible candidate as a father at the moment, and she definitely didn't need that kind of complication from Draco Malfoy.

***

Millicent Bulstrode hadn't been a Death Eater during the war, but that didn't mean she didn't believe in blood purity. Hers was a long and proud lineage, woven in with some of the oldest Wizarding families in England. She had thought the Death Eaters were mindless bullies, and hadn't liked the idea of mindless torture or rape simply for the fun of it. She rather thought that Muggles should lead their own separate lives elsewhere, and that Squibs and Muggleborns were what resulted from interbreeding with them. She wasn't particularly vicious to anyone during the war, but had been tarred with the same brush in its aftermath because she was a proud member of Slytherin House. She opted to leave the country for a time, letting the dust settle for a bit. She wound up in Hungary and Germany for most of the following years, becoming more and more involved with international real estate.

"Millie, lovely to tempt you back home!" Pansy chortled, hugging Millicent close. Millicent sent Ginny a helpless look, arms crushed to her sides until Pansy let go of her. "Isn't it lovely to meet everyone all over again?"

Millicent sat down daintily at the table. She had been a rather rotund girl at Hogwarts, but had lost some weight since school. Now she looked voluptuous, and the curves on her large frame were flattering. It also helped that she had acquired expert tailors who knew how to accentuate her features so she looked devastatingly beautiful when she wanted to. "Well, we didn't all run in the same circles, Pansy," she said, nodding at Ginny. "Still, it's nice to see that some things do change with time."

Draco laughed. "Don't even think that's the case. We couldn't put the real reason for the visit in the owl, now could we?"

Ginny frowned slightly. She was dimly aware of their complaints that owls were monitored, though she couldn't get anyone she knew to admit that. Even Hermione, who sometimes would justify the Ministry actions, wouldn't confirm that there was a department that did nothing but intercept owls or monitor other communications. "That's one reason for coming, though."

"Quite," Blaise agreed. "We're going to start a whisper campaign."

Millicent looked around at their eager faces and began laughing. When they didn't laugh with her, she stopped. "You're serious?" Ginny nodded firmly. "Whispers? That's such a child's game. Do you honestly think it would work on a national level? Or international level?"

"If you whisper the right things to the right person, certainly."

Millicent sighed. "I can't believe I left Berlin for this."

"Well, there was a reason why we asked you to visit," Draco began when Ginny opened her mouth again. "One of the legislative bills that will be discussed in the fall concerns real estate law and inheritances. Of people we trust, you probably know the most about it."

Millicent arched a finely shaped eyebrow. "Why should I care about this? My inheritance won't be at risk."

"It just might," Ginny replied tartly. "Part of the content of the bill concerns expatriates, since a lot of former Death Eaters left the country."

She bristled visibly. "My cousins might be fools that way, but _I_ was never a Death Eater." She glared at Ginny.

Ginny shrugged negligently. "Do you think the Ministry would honestly care enough to separate out who left for what reason? I'm not calling you names, Millicent. I'm pointing out what's on the table in the fall."

"And you know this why?"

"My family members happen to be on the legislature," she replied crisply.

Millicent's mouth snapped shut. She looked at their earnest faces again, this time feeling the urgency in their request. "They would really do this, wouldn't they?" They all nodded grimly. "Oh, dear. I was hoping I wouldn't have to bother with any of that nonsense. Things are so much simpler in Germany."

Ginny sipped her tea and tried not to think about how surreal this conversation was. She had never been out of the country, and the Slytherins were all so very cosmopolitan. They took this ease for granted, never once thinking that it wasn't second nature for everyone else. It often came across as being smug and self-centered. They just didn't seem to understand that everyone else wasn't as advantaged or privileged as they were. Still, some childish part of her quailed at the thought of being with them. They were _Slytherin._ These were the same people Ginny had thought deserved Azkaban or worse just a few years previously. While she was aware that it was a childish prejudice, it was still hard to shake the feeling. They were sharp tongued and caustic with whoever displeased them, with quick wit and a ferocious intellect that wasn't driven for its own sake. Ginny felt as though she was losing a part of herself by spending so much time among them, as if she was becoming more Slytherin and less Gryffindor by the passing week. Still, she could see the advantage of having them on her side.

The Slytherins were expert at making things work to their advantage.

"My mother is thinking of starting a charity to help war orphans," Draco began. Millicent looked startled by the non sequitur. "I do believe she'll need help in managing it. You would make a lovely manager, Millie."

"What's it called?" Pansy asked eagerly. She had already promised to help this fictional charity to get out of Chesterfield House. "Something charming and elegant?"

"It hasn't got a name yet," Draco replied.

"Random Friends?" Ginny offered, reaching for a biscuit. They all stared at her. "What? Isn't that what we are?"

Draco shook his head. "Interesting, but not my mother's style. I'll have to let you know what she ultimately chooses."

"What? She's going to join, too?" Millicent asked, shocked.

"It's a perfect meeting place," Ginny replied mildly. She gave Millicent the smile she usually reserved for dim reporters that didn't realize she wanted to go home after a particularly brutal match. "And as a public sports figure, I can attract other kinds of interest to the charity."

Millicent looked at them all helplessly. "You're mental, the lot of you." She sighed. "But all right, I'm in. Someone's got to look out after you."

***

Ginny had dressed fairly nicely to meet Narcissa Malfoy. Pansy had gone out of her way to make sure Ginny had an entirely new and tres chic wardrobe, but it all felt unnatural to Ginny. She wasn't used to the fine fabrics and elegant cuts. She felt as though she ought to be terribly dainty and careful so as not to wrinkle the clothing, let alone stain them. In her own flat, she could flop down on the couch with a pint of ice cream and not worry if some dribbled on her shirt. In Malfoy Manor, she was concerned about stepping the wrong way. The house felt _alive_ somehow, and vaguely disapproving.

Narcissa decided to name her new charity Helping Hands, so as not to limit her involvement with only war orphans. She had gotten the idea over the past several years, but none of the charities she had worked with previously had wanted to take up the cause. At least, they hadn't wanted to take it up at her suggestion.

"It's awfully nice of you to create this charity," Ginny began, a little uncertain how to broach the subject. Draco had said Narcissa knew what the charity's other reason for being would be, but Ginny didn't know exactly how much Narcissa knew regarding their plans.

"I corresponded with Andy following the war," Narcissa began slowly. "We're sisters, though we haven't spoken in years. I could never understand why she valued _him_ so much as to leave us all behind, but that doesn't make the loss of a husband and child any less." Narcissa smoothed her hands over the parchment she had laid out on the table, which held the names of all of her charity contacts. "I don't agree with her, can't, really, but would never take joy in her pain. It's been difficult to write to each other again. Many painful things have been said, and I doubt that it will ever be forgotten. But she's alone now, and having a toddler in the house can be trying for her." Narcissa's face brightened as she looked at Ginny. "He sometimes visits, and it's been wonderful to have a child in the Manor again."

Ginny nodded. "Teddy's a wonderful boy. I should probably visit more than I do."

"He's what inspired me to begin Helping Hands. If others cannot listen, then I shall have to construct the means to help orphaned children."

"They can't help who their parents were," Ginny offered.

Narcissa nodded briskly. "Quite." Her eyes glanced over Ginny's outfit and the stiff posture she held herself in. "This is all new to you, I'm sure. You haven't been involved in society or in charity work before, and there is bound to be new things for you."

"That's an understatement," Ginny said in relief. "There's also—"

"And what you will need to understand," Narcissa continued as if Ginny hadn't spoken, "is that society is not a forgiving place. It relies on subtlety and strict adherence to unspoken rules that outsiders will never learn. You could be so gauche as to break one and never be told why invites won't follow." Her expression was cold, and Ginny had the distinct impression that she had done just that. "Language is important, of course, as is how you present yourself in such places. The choice of words is as important as how they are said. You must always carry yourself like a lady, always remember that you don't just represent yourself, but the collective lifetimes of your house and family." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I am making myself clear, am I not?"

Ginny nodded slowly. "I'm aware that there are connections I lack," she began carefully. "I am hoping to correct that."

Narcissa nodded, pleased. Ginny had unconsciously copied her style of speaking, which would only serve to help her in this endeavor. "Subtlety is critical. Society circles would never say so explicitly, but it relies on innuendo to function properly." Narcissa smirked at the dismayed look on Ginny's face. "Think of it as collective flirting."

That brought unbidden images to Ginny's mind. "I know how that works," she grumbled.

Eyebrow lofted in careful censure, Narcissa stared at Ginny. "Your name has cachet now, of course. Your profession will give you some allowances. But never think it will make you immune to gossip. The whispers and stares will be everywhere, and you _must_ be above it or you will fail. If you falter, even by a millimeter, all you hope to accomplish will be lost. You are walking on that fine an edge."

Ginny's mouth had gone dry, and she nodded. She would have to be comfortable among the upper crust of Wizarding society. She would have to know to speak the same way they did, appear to value the same things they did. She would have to be careful with every word, every glance. "I want to do this the right way. I would never want to harm our ultimate goals by doing something offensive."

Narcissa's lip quirked, giving her a sardonic air that reminded Ginny of Draco. It was almost calming. "And that is why you are here, aren't you? So now we will begin planning the opening ball for Helping Hands. This must begin on an auspicious note, and we will all have to have the same kind of footing."

Ginny sat through the discussion that followed, the lists of society's who's who and Narcissa's comments regarding their susceptibility to their cause. "There will have to be a tipping point, when the collective thoughts of the masses will change merely by the weight of a thousand whispered words. That is what we are working toward," Narcissa told her, words clipped and sure. "This is why you _must_ be discreet in your intentions."

Afterward, Ginny found Draco standing outside the Malfoy Manor Floo room. "Waiting for me?" she asked, eyebrow arched in curiosity.

"Wanting to see if Mother's scarred you for life yet," he teased. He was leaning on the doorframe casually, but even that seemed to carry a graceful air. "I remember her lectures on diction and proper etiquette lasting for hours."

"I was lectured in _innuendo,"_ Ginny replied, adding a playful haughtiness to her tones. "As well as whoever will be at this ball in a month." She looked up at him. "Did she really lecture you on etiquette?"

Draco lifted his right hand as if making a pledge. "As the final scion of the Black and Malfoy houses, it is my solemn duty to behave in a manner most decorous. I carry the weight of all my collective ancestors and must reflect on their honor." He grinned at her rakishly. "Of course, they're probably all spinning about in their graves right now, but there we are."

Ginny laughed and pushed past him into the Floo room. It still felt strange to be there, though they had exchanged Floo connection codes weeks ago. "It's a lot of responsibility you carry, there. And here I thought you might be as inexperienced as I was."

She watched as his quicksilver eyes darkened a fraction. It wasn't with anger, but with something else she couldn't quite name. _Think of it as collective flirting,_ Narcissa had said about innuendo. Her words could be construed in a number of different ways, not all of them innocent. Oh, dear, had she said something wrong?

"I wouldn't call you inexperienced," Draco countered smoothly, his stance a little tense. "Perhaps _untutored_ would be a better word. It's certainly more flattering."

Ginny turned slightly and stepped closer to Draco, within arm's reach. Another step more, and they were nearly breathing in the same breath. "And the flattering comments should be savored, shouldn't they?" she asked, a decidedly seductive undercurrent to her words. What in Merlin's name was she doing?

His eyes darkened a fraction more, and it seemed as though his next breath wouldn't come easily. "I suppose they should. They carry an air of truth, regardless."

Ginny stood on tiptoe so that they were at eye level with each other. She placed both hands on his shoulders to stabilize her precarious footing. His lips parted slightly, and hers did as well, almost unconsciously. "The truth is important, isn't it? Above all else?"

"We're bending it with this plan of yours."

"Oh, take ownership in your part, Draco," Ginny murmured softly. "I couldn't do this alone. I wouldn't want to do this alone."

"Ginevra, I don't—"

Ginny leaned in and kissed him on impulse. Usually her impulses did nothing but land her into all kinds of trouble. For some reason, her impulses around Draco Malfoy were working out to change her life for the better. For some reason, they started to make sense, and she could see the pattern in them. She could trust her instincts around him, even if no one else she knew would ever believe such a thing. He wasn't some deceitful bastard out to get her, he wasn't someone who would break her just because he could.

She leaned into the kiss, her arms sliding around his shoulders. His mouth opened under hers as his arms slid around her waist. She slid her tongue into his mouth, caressing the edge of his lips and teeth and tongue. The kiss was sensual in a way she hadn't experienced before, a curiosity that wouldn't be satisfied even after a dozen more. She wanted _more_ of this, and the roiling need deep inside of her took her breath away. Draco responded to her touch, and she could feel that it was genuine. He wasn't restraining himself, but exploring her mouth in much the same way she had explored his. The measured way he carried himself was gone, and the press of his fingers into her back carried an almost desperate air. He wanted this as much as she did, even if neither of them were able to say it in words.

Ginny broke the kiss slowly and breathed in the heady scent of him. She slowly backed away and headed for the Floo. She smiled at him, reveling in the tingling on her lips. "I'll see you next week, Draco. I'm looking forward to it."

Without giving him a chance to respond, she stepped into the Floo.

***  
***


	4. Inventing New Rules For The Game

She had nightmares in Hogwarts after that disastrous first year. Sometimes they weren't literal nightmares that had her screaming in the middle of the night. Ginny learned silencing charms and littered her bed curtains with them just to be sure. Her nightmares were more of leftover fears. No one discussed the darker events of her first year, convinced they were over and better left forgotten. Only, she had never forgotten it. She had only pushed them away to look at later, never really knowing what to do with the memories. Sometimes it was really easy to do, and the ghost of memory was easy to ignore. Sometimes it was harder, a whisper at the back of her mind telling her that no one would ever love her, no one would ever like her. She was a useless creature without Tom, she would never be good enough. She could pretend all she liked, but the truth always remained deep down inside. She could never succeed without him, could never amount to anything.

Sometimes Ginny had that feeling during these weekly or twice-weekly teas. Sometimes she thought maybe she was losing herself in the crowds of sharp-tongued witches and wizards who were assuring that the future was brighter than the past had been. They were so much more intelligent than she was, so much more self-assured. They knew how to speak so eloquently, to pitch their phrases perfectly. They knew this game without having to be told the rules, and Ginny had to fight the awful suspicion that they were laughing at her behind their backs, thinking of her as a pet Gryffindor in their midst.

Draco never made her feel that way. He would tilt his head just slightly, lips parted and his quicksilver eyes contemplating her. He would _see_ her, not through her, and he took her seriously. He had from the very start, which was comforting. His very presence seemed to silence the ghostly fears in the back of her mind. He never made her feel less than, even when she admitted that she didn't know what he was talking about. He would simply nod and start explaining things or pushing her to find out for herself.

Perhaps that was why his silence following their kiss was so maddening. She wanted to say something about it, anything, draw him out. _Why aren't you talking about it? Why won't you tell me what you think?_ she wanted to say. She kept her lips sealed shut and smiled as if nothing had happened, as if it hadn't been the best kiss of her life and she still fell asleep dreaming about it.

Ginny took extra care to smile and behave normally at home. Her parents had been pleased to find out she was in a charity dedicated to helping war orphans, though the pleasure had been tempered somewhat by finding out it had been started by Narcissa Malfoy. "Why's that a problem, Mum?" Ginny had asked over dinner.

"Eh, no problem, really," Molly had said, shaking her head. Still, Ginny could feel the faintly disapproving undercurrent in the tone, and it still made her feel incredibly guilty. She felt as if she was lying to her parents outright, even if it was simply a lie of omission.

"You _sound_ like there's a problem," Ginny pointed out. She could see Arthur and Percy's gaze slide away in her peripheral vision.

"Well, I don't like her," Molly replied with a sigh.

"Oh, Mum..."

Molly put down her knife and fork and glanced across the table at Ginny. "Don't simply 'Oh, Mum,' me. I don't trust her, either. She's a Malfoy, and the family is always up to no good. I can't help but wonder what she's up to."

"Mum, it's a _charity._ I've been going there and discussing how best to bring this up to public attention. There isn't any ulterior motive." Ginny put down her own knife and fork. "I don't think she's anything like her husband."

"I should hope not," Molly answered, shaking her head. "That would be just awful."

"And she did help Harry in that last battle, Mum," Ginny reminded her. She could see Arthur nodding in her peripheral vision but didn't turn her head.

"Humph. Saving her own skin, that," Molly replied. Her tone wasn't as frosty as before, and she did remember that Narcissa was a mother, just the same.

"She's just... cold, I suppose? She's not awfully friendly, true. But she does care about children. And did you know, she visits Tonks' Mum and Teddy? She's even taken care of Teddy so that Andromeda could rest up a bit after he's been too wild." Ginny grinned at her mother almost encouragingly. "He was over the other meeting day, and his hair was a bright blue! With red eyes and yellow skin. He looked like he had just come from a coloring box."

Molly laughed, just as Ginny hoped she would. "Well, I suppose if the boy likes her she can't be all bad. I just worry after you, Ginny, dear."

Ginny laughed. "I know, Mum. Not everyone can be just like you." Molly laughed at the light hearted comment. "But honestly, the people I've met there are so smart and working for such good. It's made me feel like I should have started doing something like this years ago, instead of just playing Quidditch and thinking it was good enough."

"Oh, Ginny, of course you're good enough," Arthur chided.

"You're my Dad, of course you think so," Ginny teased with a smile. The entire family laughed good naturedly. She glanced over at Percy. "Oh! I almost forgot to mention. Percy, are you still having trouble with that real estate business?"

Percy flushed somewhat. "I'll understand the finer points, don't worry about it."

"Millicent Bulstrode joined the group a little while ago. She was doing real estate in Germany, did you know that? I have no idea half of what she said about it, but it sounded like she knew what she was talking about." Ginny turned back to her dinner and noticed that Percy seemed to brighten somewhat. She took a sip from her water glass to hide her knowing smile. Percy was caught, all right. "Should I have her owl you? Maybe she could talk to you about that sort of thing so you'll be fresh when the summer session is over."

"If you wouldn't mind," Percy remarked gratefully. "And international real estate is just the next thing that they would talk about in the legislature," Percy added for Arthur's benefit. "Surely the domestic tax law is much simpler than foreign."

Arthur smiled and beamed at Ginny. "That's so nice of you to think of family that way, Ginny."

Ginny returned the smile and tried not to feel like a liar. "My first thought."

"Have you met anyone there that knows a thing about tax law?" Arthur asked hopefully.

Ginny laughed, honestly this time. "I'm not sure, Dad. But let me ask about. I'm sure someone knows something about it. What kind do you need to know about?"

"If there's an economist about, that would be brilliant."

"I'll ask Blaise, then. He's the money man. That's like an economist, isn't it?"

"Who's this Blaise fellow?" Molly asked. Ginny wanted to roll her eyes. Just because she and Percy were the last of the brood to be single didn't mean that she wanted Molly forcing dates or introductions on her.

"Blaise Zabini. He was a year ahead of me at school. He does some sort of job, I don't remember, but handles the bookkeeping." Ginny shrugged. "I think he's seeing someone."

Molly seemed to deflate somewhat. "Ah, well, there's plenty of good people about, I'm sure."

Ginny openly grinned and finished her dinner in high spirits.

***

"You've been avoiding me."

Draco looked up from the book he had been reading in the library, his expression carefully blank. Still, Ginny could read the expression in his eyes. He was instantly wary the moment she had found him the library alone.

Ginny stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. The click of the lock sliding shut seemed almost impossibly loud, and she could see his gaze sharpen.

"What are you doing, Ginevra?" he asked, voice steady and almost cold. She wasn't put off by it in the slightest.

"You've been avoiding me," Ginny repeated, stepping into the room. She watched as Draco put aside his book. He was still seated on a chaise lounge, still in a relaxed pose. His eyes were anything but, and she could see his quicksilver eyes darken.

"You've been busy with Mother planning the ball," Draco hedged. He couldn't quite meet her eyes, but apparently found her eyebrows fascinating. "It's next month, and there's still much to plan. They're difficult to run, you realize. It takes a lot of effort."

Ginny stepped closer, still. "And yet you're not there, helping as you promised you would."

"That hardly needs my intervention."

"And there isn't a latest conquest in the gossip columns, so I know you're not spending time in Diagon Alley or someplace like that," Ginny continued, watching his shoulders stiffen. There was something about those dalliances that he never enjoyed discussing. Even mocking the girls he had brutally dumped seemed to be too much. Ginny would never tell him so, but she couldn't help but think it was gallant of him. It was a side of him that few knew about. There was a twisted kind of honor in that, and she knew that she could trust him with whatever she told him. If he wouldn't dishonor girls he didn't care about and wasn't friends with, he would never intentionally harm her in such a callous way.

"I thought you were above such rubbish," Draco replied coolly, his eyes snapping to hers. His quicksilver eyes flashed fire and a warning, but Ginny had long since stopped heeding it. Even if she took it seriously, she was a Gryffindor. They weren't known for cool heads when warned, and she was every inch a Gryffindor.

"And I thought you were above hiding behind your mother's skirts," Ginny challenged. She took another step further. "I thought we were getting close."

"Did you?" Draco asked, voice chill and face as still as marble. "That's unfortunate."

Ginny tilted her head to the side. "Is it? Why? Because you'd have to give up pretending you don't care about anything? Because you'd have to do something about the fact that we kissed? And that you liked it?"

Something rippled in his face. It wasn't quite anger, but her words had apparently hit too close to home. "Go home, Ginevra. Someone has to think about this if you won't."

The hissed words did nothing to curb her instinct to bait him. She had tried to seek him out earlier, but he always seemed to have somewhere else to be. She _had_ thought about this, for Merlin's sake. She knew what was at stake as well as he did.

"I know our families hate each other. They have for centuries and I would never count on your father for anything. I know you think my family is full of Muggle-loving fools and sometimes you can barely even tolerate me when I talk about them. I think your family is too caught up on old fashioned aristocratic notions that don't work anymore, and I know you think that it's naïve of me. I know this. I'm telling you, I don't care."

"You should," Draco said coldly, jaw set. "You should care what happens to you."

"I do, more than you think I do." Her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry. This wasn't happening the way she had planned it to be, even knowing that he was reticent about taking their relationship – or whatever it was—to some other level. She lifted her chin a fraction and pushed aside the niggling fear deep inside. She was a Gryffindor and a Weasley, capable of anything, and she had faced far worse than possible rejection at being snogged. Ginny took another step forward, and Draco was practically frozen in place beneath her intent gaze. "I'm just as aware of what it looks like as you are."

"Then do something about it, you daft bint," Draco snapped, eyes rolling. "Stop simpering and pretending that this is some game to play."

Ginny straddled him, sitting on his lap. Draco's mouth fell open in shock before he could compose himself, and she caught his hands as they came up to push her away. "And here is me doing something about it."

"I didn't mean this," he said, his voice sounding somewhat strangled.

"I did," Ginny murmured. She leaned down and captured his mouth in a kiss. His mouth opened beneath hers, and when she let go of his hands they slid around her waist to settle at the small of her back. She kissed him with every fiber of her being. He wouldn't listen to words, but perhaps if she could get her feeling across, it would sink in.

When the kiss broke so that they could breathe, Ginny stripped off her shirt. It was some frilly Muggle thing, something Pansy had helped her to pick out. She would have been hopelessly lost in the Muggle stores and definitely wouldn't have known that a shirt with a deep V neck and frills would make her figure look better. It was frightfully expensive, and she had tossed it over her head as if were any of the oversized hand me downs she had previously bought in thrift shops. The lacy bra Pansy had insisted that she buy lay beneath it. Now Ginny was ridiculously pleased that Pansy had insisted on these girlish things.

There was something in Draco's gaze that warmed her to the core. He couldn't take his eyes off the expanse of skin she had bared. It was almost as if he was afraid to blink, that if he did she would disappear.

Ginny did the only thing that made sense. She took off the bra.

Draco sucked in his breath sharply, and his eyes flicked to hers. He seemed unsure about this, and Ginny gave him an encouraging smile. She wasn't some schoolgirl ninny. She knew what she wanted, even if he didn't.

He took a breast into his mouth, almost reverently. He rolled his tongue about her nipple, causing her to gasp at the pleasure shooting through her. She caught hold of his shoulders for balance and leaned over his bent head. He sucked gently, and Ginny gasped again at the feel of it. She could barely even think, though she was aware of fragmented words amongst her moans. Draco held onto her as she arched her back, pressing herself even closer to his mouth. _Yes,_ her body sang triumphantly. This was exactly what she had been waiting for. _Yes._

"I need..." Ginny gasped, fingers caught in his hair. "Merlin, I need..."

One hand undid the top button of her jeans and tried to pull on the zipper. It wouldn't quite move, but there was enough give that his hand slid inside her panties easily. His fingers found her wet center easily, and he dragged a fingertip through the damp curls. Ginny made a soft keening noise, and Draco slipped a finger inside her. He sucked harder on her breast, and Ginny thought she was going to collapse from the feel of it. He moved inside her slowly, gently, then brought his wet finger across her swollen clit. Ginny moaned, tilting her hips to try to give him better access. She was beyond even fragmented speech now. "More," she panted, head thrown back. Her loose hair fell from her face and she didn't care how wanton she must have looked. His touch was sure and perfect, and she needed all of him.

Draco lifted his head from her breast. "The first time I have you, it'll be in a bed and not sprawled across my lap in the library," he said, his voice a hoarse growl.

He moved his fingers faster in response to the rocking of her hips, then bent his head to pay attention to her other breast. He laved the nipple in time with his strokes against her clit, listening to her pants speed up and rise in pitch. He could feel her grip on his shoulder tighten almost painfully, and she was nearly pulling at his hair with her other hand. The rocking was rubbing against his erection almost painfully, and if he were still a schoolboy he would have long since been spent. Draco breathed in the scent of her desire, eyes closed. It was more heady than any perfume she could have worn and twice as addicting.

Ginny came with a strangled cry, her entire body stiffening. Waves of pleasure washed over her, and she could feel every muscle suddenly relax with her release. She fell against him, curled up around his supporting form, waiting until her breathing evened out. "Draco," she whispered, clutching onto him as if for dear life.

"Yeah?" he asked, voice rough with need.

"Your bed or mine?"

Draco wanted to laugh. Silly Gryffindor never thought things through, did she? She looked completely ravaged and sated, still smelled of sex, and still thought she might be able to get to her flat in one piece.

"Mine first."

She pulled on the blouse and tucked her bra beneath it. Luckily no one was in the hallway as they crept up the stairs to Draco's bedroom. It was one up in dark woods and deep emerald green. The massive four poster bed was in the center of the room, and it looked terribly inviting. Ginny took off the blouse with the same disregard she had earlier as Draco locked his bedroom door. The bra tumbled down to her feet and she turned to look at Draco. He mumbled a spell and then cast his wand aside. Ginny took off her jeans and soaked panties, kicking them aside. She stood there, eyeing him, watching him look at her.

He stopped a few steps away from her. With difficulty, he looked her in the eye. "We shouldn't do this, Ginevra." His voice was strangled and full of regret. "You should tell me no. Stop me. We shouldn't be doing this."

Ginny reached out and unbuttoned his shirt in response, pulling it open to reveal his chest. She smiled at Draco as she pressed her chest against his. "Yes, Draco."

With a groan, he pulled her closer against him and kissed her deeply. Ginny's hands worked at his belt with some difficulty, and she opened her mouth beneath his. Their tongues dueled, tasting and exploring each others' mouths.

When Draco broke the kiss for air, he took a half step back to attack his own belt. Ginny fell back across the bed and cast a contraceptive spell on herself with wandless magic. She watched as he stripped off his trousers and then got up on the bed. He looked at her, almost terrified, and licked his lips nervously. He knelt before her, where she lay as if offering herself. His cock jutted proudly in front of her, its tip glistening. "You can still... We don't have to do this. You can still tell me no, Ginevra." His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. His eyes were pleading with her. "Tell me no."

"Yes," Ginny whispered, reaching for him. "A thousand times, yes."

With a groan, he moved between her spread legs and sank within her depths. She arched her hips to meet his thrusts, running her hands along his back. Draco moved with deep, sure strokes, his breath coming in short pants. He had his eyes squeezed shut and he was biting his lip to keep from coming too soon. She felt exquisite, a perfect fit. He could feel her inner muscles working, grasping at him, and it took all his concentration to keep himself from spilling everything. Draco could hear her gasps quicken, and she grew even tighter around him as she approached another orgasm. He reached between their bodies and thumbed her clit. He had to bite his lip harder at the strangled cry she made, the way she arched her body against his.

And then she came, milking his cock, unable to contain herself any longer. With a grunt, Draco opened his eyes and let go.

Ginny gave a contented sigh as Draco settled on top of her. She ran her fingers through his hair, her knees bent and thighs pressed against his hips. "Mm. Wonderful."

Ah, that could give his ego too large a boost. But it didn't matter. Ginny wanted to grin like a loon and announce to the entire world that she had just shagged Draco Malfoy and intended to do it again as soon as she could catch her breath.

He was watching her face, the curl of her lips into a satisfied smile. Draco could see the freckles across the top of her nose were the same color as the ones across her shoulders and breasts, and that her skin was so pale it was nearly translucent. He was sure that no one else had seen her this way in a very long time. She was so open to him in that moment, touching him so tenderly. If she was anyone else, it would have been the perfect moment to leave, to shatter her to pieces and break her heart.

But she wasn't anyone else. She was Ginevra Weasley, and she had become dear to him.

He kissed her, slowly and gently. She responded with the same passion she had earlier, the same artless enthusiasm she gave everything. It was endearing and humbling at the same time. She gave him the same consideration and love she gave to her family and Quidditch, the same fervor of her ideals.

Draco wasn't sure he even deserved it.

He moved slowly inside of her, rocking his hips gently against hers. She made a humming noise deep inside of her throat, a sound of pure pleasure. Draco closed his eyes. It didn't matter if he deserved it or not, if she changed her mind in a day or week or month. Right now she was his, and he had no intention of letting go.

***  
***


	5. Belle of the Ball

When Pansy decided to spend Chesterfield's money, she definitely didn't do things halfway. She brought Ginny to her own personal tailor in one of the most exclusive Wizarding shops in England. Her personal seamstress happened to be mute, though Hester was able to communicate in a myriad other ways. "I can ramble on and on about the most awful things, and she can't repeat a word of it," Pansy chirped gaily, pushing her way into the store. She waved at Hester, who smiled in a vague sort of way in response. Ginny gave her a helpless look and followed Pansy into the measuring area. Each patron had a separate area of the shop, heavy velvet drapes keeping the area private and secure. The drapes had powerful silencing spells on them, and the elite of society knew that even the loudest screamer could be discreet within the privacy of those drapes. Pansy just liked knowing that she could be rip roaring drunk and say inappropriate things to Hester without censure.

"I don't know if that's necessarily a good thing..." Ginny began faintly. Hester shrugged as she pulled the drapes shut, activating the spells.

"Of course it is," Pansy declared, sinking into a plush armchair within the measuring area. She waved at the pedestal. "I can tell you that Chesterfield is shagging his sister and that's why he can't get it up for me. And poor Hester can't tell a soul." She giggled at the juxtaposition of Hester's bland face and Ginny's shocked expression.

"That's not funny," Ginny gasped, climbing onto the pedestal. "You're drunk."

"Of course I am. Did you honestly think I would gad about this place while sober?" Pansy gave an artful little shudder. "Horrid thought, that. Silly girl." She peered at Ginny, squinting a bit. "You're still dressed?"

"What?" she asked, looking from Pansy to Hester. Hester had measuring tape in hands, and looked at Ginny expectantly. "I'm supposed to be _naked?"_

Pansy giggled. "Oh, dear. That's right. You haven't worn one of the Rosewear gowns, have you? Oh, you'll be so beautiful. The belle of the ball, really, but you can't get measured with clothes on, dear." She pushed herself up from the chair and got up on the pedestal. "Oh, don't be shy. I want to see what Draco's all caught up about."

Ginny blinked. "What?"

Pansy smiled breezily and began unbuttoning Ginny's blouse. "I think it's wonderful. He looks so happy. I used to look at his photo in the Prophet and see how miserable he was. It almost made the misery of Chesterfield touching me bearable. He wasn't doing any better. Nobody was, really, and it was a cold kind of comfort." She tossed the garment aside and Hester deftly caught it and began to fold it neatly.

"I, uh, I'm glad you approve."

The other woman's giggles dissolved into a drunken fit of guffaws. "Oh, you're so proper about it." Pansy walked around Ginny and unhooked her bra. "Are you so shy to let me see? Don't tell me you never experimented at Hogwarts."

Ginny's eyebrows shot up toward her hairline. "Those other girls my year were silly, awful girls. I never would have even thought of that with them."

Pansy dropped her chin onto Ginny's shoulder. "I guess I thought it was just something else to do, you know? Some girls liked it, some don't. I could take it or leave it. But it was great practice for kissing. Millie's a pretty good kisser, did you know that? Oh, wait. Why would you?" She spun around, Ginny's bra strap in hand. "I think she's taking one of your brothers to the ball."

"Which one?" Ginny asked, amused. "I have six, and most of them are either married or involved with someone."

"The prissy one," Pansy declared. She tossed Ginny's bra at Hester, who caught it and laid it over her folded blouse.

"Percy?" Ginny asked. She was a little surprised, but then again had introduced the two of them so they could talk about real estate issues. Apparently, they were getting on fairly well.

Pansy nodded and smiled hopefully at Ginny. "You're really pretty. I can see what Draco likes about you." Pansy's hand hovered over Ginny's right breast but didn't quite touch it. "Can I kiss you?" She looked at Ginny with an open expression, rather like a child's. "Can I feel what it's like to be loved?"

Ginny thought her heart would break. "You have Blaise."

"I know," she whispered, gaze dropping. "But not how it counts. Never how it counts." She looked up, eyes wet with unshed tears. "You can have that, you know. The two of you. You can have each other, can hold each other. I can't." Pansy reached out and cupped Ginny's cheek in a soft caress. "He loves you, you know. As much as you love him." Her smile was bittersweet at Ginny's startle. "Oh, yes, I can see it. I've known him since we were children. I know Draco so well, and I'm like a sister to him now. So sad. And he loves you. He loves you more than anyone else he's ever been with. I can see it."

Completely thrown by Pansy's statement, Ginny couldn't move. Her eyes were wide and she felt frozen in place. Pansy leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips, an almost chaste peck, then hopped down from the pedestal. "You're beautiful, you know," Pansy remarked, sitting back down in the plush armchair. She looked over at Hester, who had discreetly chosen different colored fabrics to offer to Ginny. "She's stunning when done up right, isn't she, Hester? You're going to break so many hearts at that ball."

"I don't want to break any hearts," Ginny whispered, blinking in surprise.

"Doesn't matter, you will anyway. It's part of the social whirl. Someone's heart has to be broken every season. Someone has to be the one to take the fall." Pansy checked inside her clutch purse and pulled a flash out of its charmed depths. She took a healthy swig and then saluted Ginny, who stood on the pedestal topless as Hester approached with the measuring tape. "You, lovely Ginny, won't break or be broken. I can see it." Pansy took another swig from the flask then replaced it. "You won't break Draco, either. You couldn't. You could never break the ones you love to pieces, it's not you." She gave Ginny a wistful smile. "It's all right, love. Don't worry about it. I'll break for you."

***

Ginny was seated on her bed, Draco curled around her with his chin on her shoulder. One hand idly traced the inside of her naked thigh, and the other was wrapped around her belly. They met often in her flat; once the Floo was locked down, her cozy home felt more like a hideaway to explore each other. Ginny found herself enjoying the hours together. Ginny had thought herself a modern girl, but some of the new positions she was learning about had goggled her mind at first. Most of the romance novels hadn't varied from missionary position, and Draco had flat out told her that the missionary position was a mere appetizer. Today she had even done a silly striptease to whatever was playing on the Wireless, laughing all the while. She had thought it would be strange, but the adoration in Draco's eyes made it more than worth the slight embarassment. It had led to Ginny straddling Draco and having sex while seated in a chair. They had moved to sit on her bed afterward, to cool down a bit and relax.

"Thank you for being so nice to Pansy," Draco murmured as he stroked her thigh.

"She seems so sad sometimes," Ginny murmured. "She can be sweet, though. She doesn't have to buy me all these clothes. Half of them I haven't been able to wear yet." She felt vaguely guilty about that, as if she was encouraging Pansy to buy her affections.

Draco chuckled a bit. "She's always liked shopping. You can return or donate whatever you don't want. Don't worry about it." He moved his left hand up to cup a breast. "But thank you. I feel like I've ignored her too long. We were really good friends once, much closer than we are now."

"I thought you dated in Hogwarts?"

"Cheeky girl," Draco remarked. He nipped her earlobe playfully. "But yes. Fourth year? Fifth year? Something like that. Our parents are friends, so they really were looking forward to the two of us eventually marrying." He shrugged. "She liked other boys and I liked other girls better. Maybe it would have been tolerable to be married, but we wanted more than tolerable. We were still friends in Hogwarts, though. She was one of the few that stuck by me at the end." He sighed, pressing his lips to her shoulder. "I should have paid more attention when she married Chesterfield. If I had, I might have just given her whatever money she needed. She wouldn't have needed to sell herself, then."

Ginny turned her head slightly toward Draco's. She leaned her right arm back slightly and stroked the outside of his thigh. "She kissed me when we were dress shopping," she began hesitantly. "She wanted to know what it was like to be loved."

Draco sighed. "Were you upset by it?"

"More that she was so lonely, really. I didn't say anything about it since I didn't know what to say. Still don't, really."

"You're too good to her," Draco murmured, dropping a kiss onto her shoulder. "And to me," he added, his voice barely audible. His left hand stroked her nipple gently, and his right hand slowly moved along the inside of her thigh to her drying curls.

"Will you be with me at the ball?" Ginny asked, her breath shattering at the intimate contact.

"I can't," he said, moving his mouth to her neck. "Not the way you want me to be."

"Draco..."

"Ginevra, if we're seen together like that, you'll lose whatever credibility you have. You'll be seen as my next conquest, just another silly girl that'll be ripped apart in a few weeks. Anything you say will be suspect."

"You'll dance with me, won't you?"

Draco nipped her earlobe as he pushed a finger inside her. "I could probably do that without ruining your reputation." Ginny arched against him, gasping, her right hand clutching his thigh tightly. She reached behind her with her left to stroke his hair.

"Sod my reputation," Ginny gasped, tilting her hips so that Draco could have better access. His finger moved within her, then across her aching clit.

"Ah, Ginevra. Someone has to protect it. Let me keep you safe." He pressed his lips against her neck, and her pulse leapt up beneath the skin. "Someone will need to protect you from yourself." He sucked on her earlobe again as he picked up the pace.

"I don't... Ah, I can't think when you do that," she moaned, leaning her head back. The fingers of his left hand pinched her nipple slightly, then traced little circles along the areola. His right hand moved in a sure rhythm, fingers rubbing against her.

Draco shut his eyes as she rocked against his hand, her breath coming in little panting gasps. She didn't understand how it would be if their alliance was revealed too soon. She was still too idealistic, still too much the headstrong Gryffindor. Society was a Slytherin creature, full of sly looks and whispers if she so much as smiled too widely. "Come for me," he murmured against her neck. She whimpered, her grip on his thigh almost punishing as her body tightened with her approaching release. "I'll take care of you."

He cradled her when she came with a cry. She collapsed against him, her arms falling limply to her sides. Ginny gave a soft little sigh as she settled against his strong frame, his arms around her. "You're maddening, you realize this."

He laughed mirthlessly. "It's too soon, Ginevra. Wait until you've known me longer to say so."

Ginny shimmied out of his embrace and propped herself up on all fours on her bed. She turned sideways to glance at Draco from the corner of her eye. "Is it too soon?" she asked innocently, her lips quirking into a smile. She had felt the erection at her backside, his rapid heartbeat along her back. "If I can't show you off at the ball, I can at least have you now."

"You're impossible." Draco clambered up behind her and grabbed her by the hips. He entered her in one swift motion and heard her happy sigh of contentment. His eyes shut of their own accord as he began to move within her. Ginny's hips pushed back to meet his thrusts, and the feeling was pure bliss. "Ah, Ginny, whatever will I do with you?" he moaned.

She let out a groan and buried her face in her coverlet to muffle the sound. "Mm... You feel so good," she moaned. "I can't think like this."

"Don't, then," Draco moaned, his hands tightening on her hips. Her squirming was intensifying the sensation, and he knew he couldn't last much longer. He thrust faster, harder, and could feel Ginny tighten further around his cock. He made an incoherent groan as he came, eyes flying open. Ginny made a soft mewling noise as he stopped, and turned her head slightly. "Sorry, love, you felt too good."

Her eyes were wide and surprised, and Draco could have kicked himself for the slip. He kept his smile in place and patted her rear end. "Don't worry, Ginevra. I'll protect you from yourself. You're going to be smashing at Mother's ball, I'll be sure of it."

"Draco?" she whispered, stunned. She couldn't speak as he pulled out of her and they collapsed on top of her bed. "Did you mean that?"

He kissed her slack lips and pulled her into his embrace. He normally wasn't much for cuddling, but this seemed to be an appropriate time for it. "Stop worrying, Ginevra." He smoothed her hair from her temples and kissed her shoulder. "You'll be fine. It'll all be all right."

"You promise?" she asked playfully, almost as a child would.

He laughed, holding her tightly. It was true laughter, no mocking or self deprecating notes in it at all. "I promise you anything and everything."

_I love you,_ Ginny wanted to say, but the words stuck in her throat. The word love had slipped out during sex, and that was hardly an indication of devotion. She threaded her fingers through his and squeezed. She shut her eyes and sighed with contentment. She didn't really need the word, exactly. He was already showing her consideration and attention that proved that he cared about her. It was more than she had gotten in a long time, and the feeling was rather like a warm, comforting blanket wrapped around her shoulders in winter.

_This_ was what being in love felt like. It wasn't a kiss or a caress _per se,_ but that feeling of acceptance and contentment. _This_ was what love was like. Ginny was just glad that she was mature enough now to appreciate it.

***

"I just got my dress robes from Madame Malkin's today. Ginny, dear, you didn't mention what robes you're wearing to that ball of yours," Molly mentioned over dinner. It was a week to the ball, and of course most of the extended Weasley clan would be in attendance. The cream of society's crop would be there, and following the war's end the Weasley family could count itself as members.

"I had gone with Pansy to her tailor," Ginny replied pleasantly. She smiled in the face of Molly's blank expression. "She wanted to thank me for being so nice to her at the charity meetings and got the dress for me. It's a fairly fancy thing, but it's really pretty."

Arthur looked at Ginny blankly. "Who's the tailor?"

Ginny shrugged. She never did get the name of the shop, though she remembered where on the street it was. "Rosewood or some such."

Molly blinked and her hand fluttered to her mouth. "Rosewear, you mean?"

Ginny nodded. "That's the one. Why?"

"Oh, dear. That's the most expensive shop in Diagon Alley. In all of England, I suspect."

Ginny looked at her parents' stunned faces and tried to digest what this meant. "She spent an awful lot of money, hasn't she?"

Molly nodded. "Do you have it yet?"

"It arrived at my flat yesterday. I haven't opened the box yet, actually. I had Quidditch practice yesterday for Sunday's game, and was out all afternoon. I believe it's navy blue and silver. I think that's what I picked out that day. There were a lot of fabric swatches to go through."

"You're good friends with this girl?" Arthur asked, not terribly interested in fabrics or colors.

Ginny leaned forward a little in her seat. Percy wasn't there for dinner that day, and was likely out with Millicent Bulstrode. They had become quite a pair over the past month, now that she was paying attention. "Mum, Dad, about Pansy... At the ball, can you be really nice to her?"

"As if I would ever be rude," Molly huffed, leaning back in her chair with mock affront.

Lips pressed together for a moment, Ginny sighed. "I mean that... She's in one of those society marriages with her husband. She's Pansy Chesterfield now, but she hates it. She drinks a lot, Mum. I've gotten her to slow it down a bit during meetings, at least." Ginny left out the part about Blaise forcibly taking away her flask during meetings or Narcissa's obvious disapproval of Pansy's drunken ramblings. "Sometimes she gets silly. If she says something stupid, please don't say anything."

"So she's a good friend," Arthur concluded.

"She's sad," Ginny murmured. "I feel sorry for her. I wish I could help her the same way we're trying to help these kids. I don't even know where to begin."

"There, now," Molly began, patting her hand gently. "You're doing it, then. It sounds like you're one of the few friends she's got in the world."

Ginny's smile was sad. "All the charity members, really. I don't think she's allowed to see her family anymore, so we're all she's got."

Molly clucked her tongue sympathetically. While there was no love lost for the Parkinson clan, nothing quite got up Molly's mothering instinct like being told someone had lost family. "I'm sure we can be friendly to the poor girl. She's likely just lost her way, is all."

Ginny's smile brightened. "Thanks, Mum." She squeezed her mother's hand. "So, where are your robes? Can I see?"

"After dessert," Molly laughed. "New robes for an occasion. It's going to be wonderful."

The ball itself, when it actually came, seemed to go by in a blur.

Molly's and Arthur's robes were a deep golden color with red trim. Percy was dressed in black and red, and must have coordinated with Millicent. Her slinky black dress robes had red accents and she wore a red flower tucked into her hair. They chatted with various Ministry members amiably enough, and Percy looked puffed up with pride the entire evening. Ginny's dress was a flowing concoction of midnight blue and silver lace, with a hairpiece that carried charms in it to curl her hair into a chignon and ringlets. Pansy was dressed in deep emerald green and silver lace, with a similar charmed hairpiece in hand. She eagerly left Chesterfield's side to embrace Ginny, loudly declaring her the belle of the ball to all who would listen. Narcissa was in silver from head to toe, and pointedly ignored the loudest of Pansy's ramblings.

While Ginny had been worried about her little speech for days, she and Narcissa easily and gracefully thanked all the guests for their generous contributions and their presence at the charity ball. "With your help," Ginny concluded, "I know we will be able to make a difference in the lives of these unfortunate children. If they don't have to worry about food or shelter or clothes, they will really begin to blossom and grow. I'm so proud of our efforts to help make Wizarding England a better place not only for them, but for all of us."

Narcissa's smile was cool as Ginny ended the Sonorous spell she placed on her throat. "I had forgotten," she murmured, clapping. "You really are quite the idealist, aren't you?"

Ginny lofted an eyebrow at Narcissa. "Is this a bad thing?"

"Not necessarily," she conceded. "But sometimes society can't live up to these lofty expectations, and you will be bound for disappointment."

"Ah, but that's why things need to be changed," Ginny replied with a sunny smile. "That way, society and my expectations are the same."

Narcissa laughed, and it was one of genuine affection. "There may be hope for this enterprise yet, the way you keep on." She nodded at Ginny and then inclined her head toward Arthur and Molly, who were standing near Blaise, Pansy and Lord Chesterfield, the Minister of Magic and Harry Potter. "More greetings are appropriate at this juncture. And I believe you may be occupied as well."

Blinking in surprise, Ginny was about to ask what Narcissa meant. A similar shade of blond swam into her peripheral vision, and she turned. Draco was approaching, glasses of champagne in hand for all three of them. "Oh."

"He is taken with you," Narcissa murmured, so softly Ginny thought for a moment that she imagined it. "Don't break his heart."

Ginny's head snapped back to Narcissa, her entire look a question. "But..."

Her gaze was cool and her expression was a mask. Whatever Narcissa meant would have to wait for another day. "Draco. I was wondering when you would honor me with a visit."

Draco kissed his mother's cheek and handed her one of the glasses. "Mother. A rogue like myself has to wait until the opportune time, of course." He laughed and offered a glass to Ginny. "I do believe the evening is a smashing success." Draco raised his glass. "A toast, to my wonderful Mother and to Ginevra Weasley, for all of their efforts."

Narcissa's bemused glance flicked to Ginny as she drank. "What a way with words, Draco." She touched his shoulder in affection. "Thank you. Your efforts aren't unappreciated, you know. I was just about to greet our ministers and honored guests again."

"I can escort you," Draco offered immediately.

"Absolutely not. Enjoy yourself. I'll keep to the social niceties," Narcissa replied, patting his arm. "You can squire the lovely Ginevra about for a bit, and then go mingle about."

Draco and Ginny watched as Narcissa glided over to the knot of people she had mentioned. It looked graceful and elegant, and she was able to effortlessly work her way into the conversation and smile graciously all the while.

"It never ceases to amaze me that she can do that," Ginny murmured.

"It's not that difficult," Draco murmured. He held out his arm. "I'm supposed to squire you about, she said."

Ginny placed her hand on his arm and smiled. "Is this going to break my reputation?"

"Not one dance," Draco replied with a shake of his head. He gave his glass to a passing waiter and did the same with Ginny's glass. "Shall we?"

"Absolutely."

It was a short dance, very formal and stylized. Though there seemed to be whispers and pointed looks, no one openly said anything. They didn't look at each other with overly affectionate eyes or talk. If anything, it seemed like a fairly perfunctory dance. The whispers all ended when Draco guided Ginny over to her parents and the ministers, then left after he bowed deeply in front of all of them.

"He grew into a rather charming young man," Arthur told Narcissa, his appreciation genuine.

"Thank you," Narcissa replied, inclining her head slightly to receive the compliment. "Ginevra has been an absolute pleasure to work with for the charity. Helping Hands would certainly not be the success it is without her."

Ginny watched her parents glow under the praise and smiled serenely at Narcissa. "It's been a wonderful challenge to begin," she said to Narcissa. "I've met such wonderfully talented people while working there, too. It's been humbling." Ginny turned to the Minister of Magic and smiled, gracefully sketching a slight curtsy. "Are you enjoying the evening, Minister?"

The Minister of Magic puffed up his chest slightly. "It was very thoughtful of you to invite the cabinet, Miss Weasley. Lovely party, lovely party."

She smiled at him and couldn't help but contrast his appearance and manners to Draco's. Ginny knew that he would have wanted to say something about how she looked. She knew he would have wanted to kiss her, touch her face, _do something_ to let her know how cherished she was, how wonderful he thought the ball had turned out. The Minister on the other hand seemed like an overweight, aging and balding man without a family to call his own. He was friendly enough, but didn't seem to enjoy the social whirl at all. Ginny reached out on impulse and took his arm in much the same way she had taken Draco's. While he blinked in surprise, he didn't seem to be overly offended by the move.

"I'm so glad. I have to admit, this is the first ball I've had to plan, and I was dreadfully nervous about how it would turn out."

"Ah, Miss Weasley. Would you like to dance?" he asked, a trifle uncomfortably.

Ginny beamed and caught Narcissa's amused glance out of the corner of her eye. "That would be lovely, but I wouldn't want to intrude on your conversation, sir. It seemed to be terribly important and I don't want to interrupt."

The Minister laughed, a deep booming sound. "Ah, all business talk, Miss Weasley. It's nothing that can't wait until after a dance. The legislature won't reopen until fall, after all."

He was a better dancer than he looked, but not much of a conversationalist. Ginny politely inquired after his family and plans for the summer, and he let her talk about Quidditch and her hopes for Helping Hands. The dance was brief, as short as the one with Draco had been, but this one felt more emotionally draining. _I'm so fake, it's a wonder he can't see through me,_ Ginny thought, keeping a social smile pasted on her face. "Thank you so much for dancing with me, Minister. I'm so honored."

He patted her hand on his arm gently. "You're a lovely young woman, Miss Weasley. Your parents are so proud of you. I must say, I was expecting a tomboy at first, with the Quidditch and all. You're a little lady, through and through, just as your father mentioned. Honorable chap, he is, Gryffindor through and through. I can see that in you, too."

Ginny kept her social smile in place, even though a part of her wanted to cry. She didn't feel like a Gryffindor. She felt like a small child playing pretend, dress up in an outfit she could never hope to afford in her wildest dreams. She wasn't this lady that everyone thought she was. She wasn't this sweet and innocent little girl. It was like those schoolgirl nightmares, the ones where she could never be good enough, no matter how hard she tried.

A flash of pale blond in her peripheral vision helped to reorient her. She thought of Draco and was comforted by his presence. Her girlish fears were silly. They didn't mean anything. The world had changed, and she had changed with it. It was neither good nor bad, it simply was.

"You're a good Minister," Ginny told him honestly. "I hope that my small efforts can even do a pinky's worth of change that you have done."

Flustered, the man guided her back to her parents. "Ah, you flatter an old man, Miss Weasley, truly you do. Politics isn't nearly as noble as you seem to think it is."

"Maybe," Ginny agreed with a nod. "But you're trying your best to make our world a better place. There's honor in that."

He laughed. "Ah, well, once a Hufflepuff, always a Hufflepuff, I suppose."

"Do you think that's true, Minister? That whoever we are as children is whoever we're going to be all grown up?"

He paused, and Ginny stopped alongside him. They were still technically on the dance floor, but no one was going to accuse the Minister of Magic of being rude by not dancing. "I suppose not. Even that young Malfoy there... Family is as Dark as can be, but he seems to be keeping to legal rights. Some of the other young ones, they're in that charity you work with, too. That Zabini fellow, smart young man. I was speaking with him earlier, thought him for a Ravenclaw. I found out afterward that he was a Slyth in school, but never Dark." He shook his head. "These are some confusing times, young lady, and we do the best we can."

"Ah, well. If Slytherins can change and aren't evil, I know we're on the right track," Ginny told him brightly. He seemed somewhat dazzled by her smile.

He laughed, a little nervously. "Let's get you back to your parents, eh?"

Ginny almost laughed outright when she realized he thought she was infatuated with him. She nodded and kept her bright smile on her face when she returned to her parents. Pansy and Lord Chesterfield were talking about estate law. Pansy looked bored, and was standing very still next to Molly in an attempt to avoid ravaging the nearby wet bar. "Oh, Minister. Have you met Lady Chesterfield? She works with the charity as well."

The Minister of Magic greeted Pansy amiably enough, then began chatting with Chesterfield and Arthur. Pansy gratefully caught hold of Ginny as Molly slipped away to talk to a friend of hers at the ball. "You're stunning," Pansy whispered. "And dancing with the Minister of Magic? What a coup! He looks positively enamored."

Ginny snorted inelegantly. "Hardly. I played a simpering idiot, though. The things I do for change, Pansy."

Pansy finally snagged a glass of champagne and downed it all in one gulp. "For change and the route to a better tomorrow," she whispered. "Oops. I got the toast backward."

Ginny laughed and patted Pansy's arm. "It's all right. I know what you meant."

All in all, the night was a success.

***  
***


	6. Protection Wards

They were sitting in the Muggle tea shop, waiting for Draco to arrive. "That was quite a coup, dancing with the Minister," Pansy remarked, sipping her cup of tea. For the first time all week, it wasn't laced with alcohol.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It wasn't a coup. My father works with him. I was being polite."

"Well, you danced with him, and it was in the Prophet. They didn't even notice that you didn't dance with Potter." She paused and put down her cup. "Why is that, Ginny? He didn't even come near you all night."

She shrugged in reply. "I don't know why he does half the things he does. We haven't spoken in years, really, not about anything important."

"Did you break his heart? Is that it? Is he pining after you, sighing and longing for your return?" she asked, dramatically falling into a fake swoon.

Ginny snorted indelicately and looked over at Millicent. "You make her stop, she listens to you."

Millicent laughed. "Oh, no, I want to hear this one."

Ginny shook her head, her face turning pink. "It just didn't work out, is all."

"The Prophet made it sound as if you broke it off with him," Millicent pointed out.

"I did."

"Why?" both Slytherin girls chorused.

Ginny was saved from an immediate answer by Draco's entry into the shop. She kept herself from grinning madly at him, though she desperately wanted to. "Listen, there are new things happening even though it's still summer session."

"Oh, poo. It's _summer,_ we should be having fun." Pansy stuck out her tongue as Draco sat down beside them. "Don't elegant people have parties all summer?"

"You know better than that," Millicent remarked. "It's the summer. It's the Little Season, and everyone who has any kind of sense would save the partying for when it's cooler. Same with politics. Who wants to argue when it's so blasted hot out?"

"Which is why we're figuring out the next tactic," Draco added, smoothly cutting off Pansy's next whine. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing important," Ginny supplied helpfully.

"Ah, good. Blaise is off doing something work related and awful. Mother has actually had a lot of offers for help with the charity, so the ball was a success. Even better, it got our foot in the door politically." Draco looked at Ginny pointedly. "Your family is awfully well connected, and right now they're the ones that seem to be helping us most."

"Well, we know a lot of people," Ginny began feebly.

"The thing is," Draco began as if Ginny hadn't spoken, "we haven't really cashed in yet on _your_ fame." He drummed his fingers on the table top as he thought. "Does your team do anything in particular that's visible?"

"Other than play?" Ginny asked, eyebrow raised and voice frosty.

Draco had the grace to wince as the other girls laughed at him. "I mean, socially. Are there any charities or events they sponsor?"

"No, not really. The owner is a selfish, cheap slag."

Draco's eyebrow quirked. "Really? Such language."

"As successful as the team is, we're the only thing keeping her finances afloat," Ginny confided. She reached for a biscuit that Millicent had ordered earlier. "It's an open secret on the team, and we know that any profits are funneled into her dilapidated estate."

Draco leaned back in his chair and smiled slowly. "Millie, I do believe this falls under your realm of expertise."

Millicent's eyebrow rose in a question. "What? Buy the damn estate?"

"Doesn't the Ministry want to open a new orphanage?" Pansy asked suddenly.

"It's on the table to be discussed in winter," Ginny agreed.

Millicent shook her head. "That would cost me more money than it would earn, especially if it's in that much ruin that only a successful Quidditch team can keep it running."

"We have the money to fix it up," Draco offered. "And think of it as a charitable contribution."

"Those get tax write-offs under current law," Ginny added, remembering a conversation she had at dinner with her father and Percy. "Percy could explain it in detail, I think. But if it's substantial enough, you might wind up saving a lot more than you think."

Millicent's cheeks grew slightly pink at the mention of Percy. "Uh..."

"Just think about it. If you don't want to, I'll ask Chesterfield," Pansy offered. "He thinks the world of the group now, I think he might even drop the galleons to do it."

"He would definitely want that write-off," Draco remarked. "It would be good to spread out the influence so it's not too obvious it's just us. Unless there's someone else we can pull into this plan of ours?"

"Daphne's a baby-making wreck," Pansy declared, shaking her head. "Some of the other girls are nearly wraiths after the war and barely show their faces. Our year, it's just us." She looked over at Ginny. "Any other candidates amongst the golden gods?"

Ginny flushed as she shook her head. "I've dropped hints with Neville and Luna, but they didn't seem terribly interested. My year is useless, and I didn't know that many people outside of my House. The last two years at Hogwarts didn't exactly sponsor closeness with them."

"Pity," Millicent remarked. She stirred her tea, lost in thought. "What about overseas contacts? If I could bring a friend or two over, would they be listened to?"

"Only if they're experts," Draco replied, shaking his head. "So it's pretty much just us, then."

"Better that way, anyhow," Ginny murmured. She looked around. "Less chance of getting caught and accused of treason, right?"

Millicent arched an eyebrow at her and her lips curled into a sly smile. "My, my, my. Is the golden girl sneaking about like a Slyth?"

Ginny didn't bother bristling at the comment. She pushed aside whatever unease she felt at the words. Millicent didn't know her past. No one at the table did, not even Draco. They wouldn't know the dread horror that the reminders could bring, and she wasn't about to let them know. She was used to pretending it hadn't happened and sometimes could almost fool herself. "I'm being practical. If someone thinks less than highly of our little group, we'd all be in trouble. I don't fancy that happening, do you?"

"Not particularly," Millicent admitted. "I rather like being able to visit places here and not trouble myself with proof that I'm not up to no good."

"There are still places where you do," Pansy retorted. "You've just been gadding about with that brother of hers, so you've been in places on the up and up."

Draco sighed as Millicent blushed. Ginny just smiled at Millicent warmly. "Maybe you can get him to be less of a priss, then. Merlin knows poor Penelope tried her hardest while they were at school, but gave up too quick, I think. Then again, Percy has this awful tendency to feel all full of responsibility and push people away if they're interfering with that." Ginny tilted her head to the side a bit. "I don't know if her dying early on in the war made it worse or not. I didn't see him for a spell because of that prissy bit."

"I... uh... He hadn't mentioned her," Millicent stammered.

"S'alright," Ginny replied with a smile, reaching for a biscuit. "He might not for ages, if ever, so just forget I even mentioned it. It all depends if something happens or not, right?"

Millicent smiled at her gratefully, then began talking about the possibilities of buying up estates to donate to the ministry. She was the first to leave to investigate it. Draco leaned over toward Ginny. "Bravo. Skillfully played, Ginevra."

She quirked an eyebrow at Draco. "I didn't play anything. She'd just rather not discuss her love life, is all. So if finances are preferable, by all means, I'll discuss that."

Pansy snickered and reached for her purse. "Ooh, we've unleashed a monster, Draco. You've your work cut out for you, for sure." She found her flask within its charmed depths and grinned in the face of his frown. "What? I've been a good girl."

"So keep it that way," he insisted. "And what do you mean, I've got my work cut out for me?"

"Gin's going to keep you busy for a loooooooooooooong time," she sing-songed. She stuck her tongue out at Draco and put away her purse. "Here, I'll be good just to make you happy. The things I do for people I love."

Ginny smiled at her sadly. "It's true, isn't it, though? We'd sacrifice just about anything and promise just about everything to save them."

The startling clarity in Pansy's eyes was heartbreaking. "It is true, Ginny. And I hope you never really have to find out how true."

_Too late,_ Ginny thought. _Years and years too late._

***

Draco kissed Ginny as soon as he stepped out of her Floo connection, not bothering to wait for her to set it on _locked._ His kiss was hot and insistent, tongue sliding between her parted lips. His hands cupped her face, then one hand slid down her neck to cup a breast. His long fingers toyed with her nipple as she reached behind her to set the lock on the Floo connection, nearly falling. It would be just her luck to have one of her brothers decide they wanted to visit her on her afternoon off while she was shagging Draco Malfoy, and the world would never hear the end of it.

Ginny wound her arms around Draco, then ran her hands down his back along the curve of his bottom. One hand stayed there to cup it, the other moved to rub against the front of his pants. He groaned against her mouth, and started backing her up against the wall. The hand at her face moved down to her waist, pulling the comfortable pajama pants she was wearing at home. As the drawstring loosened a bit, Draco pushed his hand flat against the skin of her stomach and slid it beneath the waistband of the pajama pants and her panties. Growing moist, Ginny could only gasp as his fingers sought her center. His kiss was unusually demanding, and he moved against her at a quick pace. He slid one finger inside her, then two. She had to grab hold of his shoulders for balance, feeling as though her entire world was tilting off of its axis. Her body tightened around his fingers, his tongue still in her mouth and other hand still stroking her nipple. Ginny's entire universe narrowed to the sensation of his touch, then exploded in a flash point.

Barely recovered, Ginny found herself being pushed toward her couch. Draco dragged off her pajama bottoms and undid his own pants rapidly. Ginny fell to all fours next to her couch, her pajamas and panties somewhere in the vicinity of her knees. Draco fell to his knees behind her, cock erect and pressing against her damp heat. "Ah, Ginevra," he moaned, grasping at her hips. He plunged inside of her in a single thrust, one hand on her hips for balance. The other slid around to her bare stomach, stroking her skin gently. Body trembling, Ginny closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of him inside her, the building pressure and the tightening of her body around him. She was making incoherent moans, little mewling sounds that would no doubt embarrass her if she had been fully aware of them. Draco was close to collapse, leaning down over her body and increasing the weight on her knees and elbows. "Come, Ginevra," he whispered against the skin of her back. The hand at her stomach reached down for her clit, brushing over the damp curls and the sensitive nub. Ginny arched her back at the contact, her hands clenching on the carpet as she hovered close to orgasm. When it hit her, she wobbled and nearly fell to the floor in a heap of quivering flesh. Draco was the only thing that kept her upright.

Ginny curled to her side afterward and looked at Draco's intense gaze through ginger lashes. "So what brought that on?"

He touched her hip gently, and looked uncertain for a moment. "It's..." He licked his lips almost nervously, as if searching for the right words. "My mother likes you, you know. It surprised her, but she feels that for all your Gryffindor earnestness, you're a nice girl and worthy of respect. I didn't think she would ever say something nice about a Weasley, you know."

"Draco, you're avoiding the question."

He had the grace to look abashed at the comment, and met her gaze. Ginny was shocked at the pain behind them. "I don't like the interest my father has taken in you."

Ginny's brows knitted together. "But I've never met the man."

"I know. I've tried to arrange it so that you wouldn't, and Mother had been kind enough to oblige as well. And he would never show his face at public events, especially not something as important as the charity ball or meetings with officials. It bothers him, I know it does, since those officials are the contacts he helped to provide. But he's persona non grata, and he knows he would ruin whatever chances we have to make this work..."

"You're rambling," Ginny said, pushing herself up to a sitting position. She was uncomfortably sticky, but pulled her panties and pajama bottoms back on. The carpet felt awfully scratchy against her bare bottom. She took Draco's hand in hers. "Tell me what it really is, Draco. I'm not afraid of it."

"You should be," Draco murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "He... I know he's done terrible things. I'm not stupid. But he's still my father, and there's some part of me that will always want him to notice if I've done right. But this thing we're doing, the plan to change the laws? I don't like how he asks after you, the look he gets on his face. It feels like there's something more to it, something sinister." He locked eyes with Ginny. "I don't want him near you, Ginevra, but I can't even properly explain why."

Ginny took both of his hands in hers and sighed. "I know why, Draco. He wants to see if I remember, if I could be corrupted. That's what he's interested in."

Draco's startled look told Ginny more than enough about the kind of relationship Lucius had with Draco during his Hogwarts years. She had always suspected that Draco hadn't known anything about the incident with the diary. She had been able to read his subtle expressions almost right away, and there had never been any indication that she couldn't trust him, that she had to guard herself against ulterior motives. He had been a selfish prat in school, greedy for affection and fame and regard, but incapable of truly doing harm. His father, on the other hand, had no such compunctions. His father was perfectly willing to bend others to his will and to use innocents to meet his dark goals. Draco was his mother's son, not his father's.

"He probably didn't even tell you about some of the things he did as a Death Eater, did he?"

"Not really," Draco admitted. "He said some things, mostly when the others were here and he had no other choice. And Aunt Bella was... She was crazy, but I did learn a lot from her, too. The two of them got along a little too well."

Ginny pressed her lips together and tried to think about how to proceed. For all that Draco didn't agree with their methods, those two mad individuals were still family. "Well, they both liked to use other people as pawns, certainly."

Draco nodded, didn't contest it. He knew all too well the lengths to which they would go for power. He sometimes still had nightmares of Bellatrix's actions.

"When I was a first year at Hogwarts, your father thought it would be nice to use me that way. He slipped an enchanted diary into my schoolbooks." Ginny gave Draco a wilted smile. "I wound up talking to Tom Riddle that entire year."

Brows knit in concentration, Draco ultimately shook his head. "The name is familiar, but I couldn't tell you why."

"It's Voldemort's name when he was still a boy at Hogwarts. He was already well on the road to making himself a Dark Lord then."

Draco quietly squeezed her hands as he took in the calm, steady words. "You think my father would do something like this again?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Ginny replied simply. "I don't trust him. Your mother wouldn't do any such things. She cares too much about children and society to break it that way. Your father only truly cares about himself."

He sat there beside her, lost in his thoughts. She wasn't inaccurate, for all that she didn't know his family well. Draco wanted to deny it, to say that there were good things about his father that she didn't know, that he had the capacity to be a loving father. The words died on his lips unsaid. He had set a punishing pace to perfection, and the vague feelings Draco had around Lucius now still carried more guilt than love. _I'm not a good enough son,_ he would think all too often while growing up. _If only I was good enough to make him happy. If only I could please him, he would stop looking so angry._ Only, nothing ever seemed to give that satisfied smirk other than making fun of Harry Potter or his friends, of childish pranks that got Gryffindor house points docked. His grades weren't high enough, his flying skills weren't good enough, his hexes weren't powerful enough. While Draco knew his father was simply pushing him to be better than he was, so that he could be a proper Malfoy, some part of him resented it. _Why aren't I good enough as I am? If Ginevra cares about me as I am, why can't he?_

But then, she's a Weasley, Lucius was bound to reply. _Her judgment isn't sound._

By now, Draco was an adult. He could think for himself, and he knew for a fact that Ginny had sound instincts and a sharp mind when she put effort into it. The fact that she was a Weasley didn't automatically make her deficient in some way.

"I'm sorry," Ginny whispered, pulling Draco into her arms. "I shouldn't have said it like that."

"I notice you're not taking it back," he replied wryly, settling into her embrace.

"I'm calling it as I see it," Ginny retorted playfully. "How you managed to turn out well is a mystery to me."

"I could say the same about you and your awful Weasley hair."

"Pft. That was a lame attempt, Draco. You've done better."

"My heart's not in it," he replied honestly. He pressed his face against her neck. "I don't want him hurting you," he told her. "I don't want him to destroy you." _I don't want him to break your spirit and take away the thing I love about you,_ he wanted to say, but he didn't have the nerve to push the words out. What if she didn't share the feeling? It felt intense, almost overwhelming to him. He would shut her up in a glass jar to keep her safe if he could, to make sure that his father could never harm her. He would beg her to quit Quidditch and stay locked away if it would keep the possibility of damage at bay. The protective urge was familiar; he always wanted to protect the ones he loved. The intensity of the emotion was unnerving, and it felt almost as if he could teeter over the edge and lose control.

Ginny's embrace was comforting. "You'll be here with me," she murmured. "And I'll be careful, you know. I don't want him near me any more than you do."

"You got over that dark magic, though," Draco said, an edge of hope in his voice.

_Only just,_ Ginny thought darkly. _And sometimes I'm not so sure._ She tried to smile instead, and smoothed Draco's hair against the back of his skull. "I'm here in one piece and I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing."

"That's not exactly reassuring, Ginevra."

She sighed. "Some things mark you," she said simply, shrugging. Draco pulled back and searched her face anxiously. "It didn't make me evil, but it made me aware what evil is. It's... a sense, I guess. A feeling. That's what's left of it now."

He nodded, able to accept the feeble explanation. "That makes sense."

"Really? I don't think my family would think so."

"They haven't seen it for themselves, have they?" he asked. The astute question was almost startling in its accuracy, and Ginny shook her head. "That's why."

"What a pair we are," Ginny murmured, her lips curling into a smile.

"I wish more people knew," Draco replied softly. "But we can't. I'd ruin you. Everyone would think you're a tart or worse."

Ginny snickered. "I already think I'm a tart."

Draco laughed and swatted her arm playfully. "As if you'd throw yourself at just anyone."

"There now, there's the ego I'm used to."

They laughed together, then settled into each other's arms against her couch. "Honestly, though, be careful of him. He looks like he's plotting something every time he asks about you."

Ginny snuggled closer to him. "Probably hoping he can use me to resurrect the bastard," she guessed. "I will keep as far away from him as possible, don't you worry about that."

"I can't help it," Draco murmured. "I worry anyway."

"I've noticed. The real thing you need to be worrying about, though? However are we going to get Minister Howe away from Minister Fragglethorpe? There's no way Fragglethorpe will ever consider loosening the discriminatory laws against former Death Eaters, but Howe is more moderate if he's on his own."

Draco suppressed a laugh. That was just like her. She would push away whatever concerns she deemed to be insignificant to focus on the bigger picture. At the moment, she wanted to target the outright discrimination of former Death Eaters and Slytherins who never joined up. While the charity could garner good press and the financial strictures could be loosened, Ginny's ultimate goal was to have all wizards and witches be treated equal, regardless of bloodline or past history during the war. Draco wanted to tell her it was an impossible dream, but her cheeks grew rosy and her eyes sparkled deliciously when she talked about it.

"You do realize we may have to hold another ball, right? You might be able to grab Howe in a waltz and talk to him then, like you did for the Minister of Magic."

Ginny groaned. "You think it was a coup, too, don't you?"

"I think it's a stroke of incredible good luck," Draco hedged. "It gave an awful lot of cachet to Mother's charity and it looks like the Ministry approves of her efforts. It's a social issue, really. It doesn't help legislation yet."

"Exactly! Pansy only seems to think of society."

"Well, you want that, too. We'll need both if we're going to reach this ideal you talk about."

"Humph. It wasn't my idea. It was the Prophet and the Wireless and every politician just after the war ended. It was all their promises of a better world, a safer place to live and no fears to speak of. They promised everything and all we have are scraps of that picture they painted. It's just awful that so many people are content with what little we have."

"Sometimes it's more than they hoped for."

"Stingy, foolish misers," Ginny replied, snuggling closer to Draco. "Why shouldn't they want everything? We certainly deserve it."

Draco dropped a kiss on top of her head and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. While he wasn't certain that all of the free Death Eaters were truly repentant, he understood the point of her efforts. He could certainly stand a little less speculation if he was going to a club at night or meeting with friends from school.

And most importantly, he wanted to be able to be with Ginny without sneaking around, without risking censure. Suddenly, it didn't seem like too much to ask.

"We'll keep at it," he promised her. "We've got a little time before the fall Season opens and the legislature resumes. We can lay the groundwork."

"When it's done, I want to dance with you in public," Ginny murmured, looking up at him with an earnest expression. "I want to show everyone what a gentleman you can really be, how caring you really are."

Draco smiled at her, a rueful twist to his lips. "No one wants to know that."

"I do. And I want it known that the Prophet was unnecessarily cruel in how it painted you."

"Maybe not unnecessarily," Draco replied. "I didn't treat those girls nicely."

"They were silly cows, weren't they?" Ginny pointed out. "Anyone with any kind of sense could see that you weren't serious about them."

"And you? What if I'm not serious about you?" he teased.

Ginny snorted. "I can read you, Draco. And even if I couldn't, I think Pansy would slit your throat if you ever treated me so shabbily." She smiled sweetly at Draco's shocked expression. "She thinks we're good for each other. She even thinks that when she's sober. And you know what? I do think she's right."

Draco looked thoughtful. "She always was perceptive."

"And she's a good friend." Ginny touched Draco's lips gently. "Stop worrying about me, Draco. You've got me so well protected it's laughable. Good for you that I'm used to it, having had six brothers do that for me." Her face clouded over somewhat. "Five, now."

He caught her hand in his. "We'll make it work out."

Her confident smile matched his. "Of course we will. No one else is getting their hands on you but me, understood?"

Draco laughed at her possessive streak. "Only children don't share, Ginevra."

Her sensual smile took his breath away. "Good."

There was no more talking for the rest of the afternoon.

***  
***


	7. There's More To Life Than Fighting

"I haven't seen you in ages, Hermione," Ginny began over lunch, "and you don't live that far away. If not for holidays, I don't think I'd ever see you."

"Well, I'm working for the Ministry," Hermione began, her voice crisp as if about to launch into a lecture. She did sigh at Ginny's earnest look. "Sometimes I don't even see Ron for days on end, and he's in the same building as I am."

Ginny clucked her tongue. "Well, this is going to be a good, sisterly lunch, yeah? So go on, feed me all the gossip in the Ministry."

Hermione laughed and shook her head. She sipped at her water, waiting for her lunch order to arrive. She was five months pregnant with her first child and practically beamed at Ginny every time her hand fell to the rise of her belly. "I don't know... You wouldn't know half of the people that I would be talking about."

"So? You get to vent. I'll talk about my Quidditch team if it'll make you feel better."

Hermione wound up talking about Minister Albert Fragglethorpe. Ginny perked up at the mention of the name, as he was hopelessly discriminatory and refused to bend in the face of change. Apparently the rumors around the Ministry held that he was having an affair with his assistant, a young man of Asian descent and questionable filing skills. His wife was a few years older than he was, and they had remained childless for years. The rumors were that he was more attached to his young assistants than he had ever been to his wife, and they had never shared a marital bed.

"That's so scandalous," Ginny laughed. "However do people look him in the eye?"

"I think it's because he spends time with Michael Howe. That man is much more pleasant to speak to, but has no spine whatsoever. It's terrible, he lets himself get swayed so much by old Fragglethorpe's rhetoric. Which is patently wrong half the time, but no one has the heart to protest it."

"Sounds like stones, not heart," Ginny snarked. That got her a laugh from Hermione, who agreed with the off color comment. Ginny launched into a retelling of one of her teammate's recent dating debacles. Heather Goodwright was the other Chaser on the team, and was constantly being set up with someone's brother or cousin or some such, and they all had something horribly wrong with them. Each blind date had been a disaster of increasingly devastating proportions. Hermione also knew Viola Pickering, one of the Beaters on the team, and Horace Tender, the other beater. The two were dating, and had been at Ginny's most recent birthday party. Ginny launched into stories of their rows while at practice and infamous snogging in the locker room that led to everyone else leaving so they could shag themselves silly in the showers.

Hermione had to brush tears of laughter away. "Oh, I did miss spending time with you. Work can be so awfully dreadful sometimes."

"I should have a little party, then. Maybe I can invite some friends over for dinner."

"Would you invite your new friends?" Hermione asked curiously.

Ginny bit her lip almost nervously. "I haven't really mixed crowds yet."

"I've noticed that."

"I suppose I wouldn't want it to be awkward. You having fought in the war and all..."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry's the one to worry about that, not me. Even Ron's all right with the idea of it most of the time. The truly dangerous ones served their time. Are serving their time. Mostly." She shrugged. "Those ones you spend time with now are in a charity and don't seem to have any dark purpose otherwise."

Ginny grinned in relief. "Thanks so much. I thought Mum was going to have a conniption when I first mentioned the charity. I'd hate to think of you or Ron acting that way."

"Harry probably hasn't forgiven a single one of them. But it's just as well that he's always in the field hunting someone. I don't think he has any other purpose." Hermione frowned and rubbed her belly almost unconsciously. "He wants to, I know, but I don't think he would know what to do with himself if there wasn't any danger about."

"It's supposed to be peaceful now. It's supposed to be better than it was."

"Crime is crime," Hermione replied simply. "It gives him something to do. I don't think he could be happy any other way. He's been fighting for so long, I truly believe he'd be lost if he wasn't fighting for _something."_

Ginny sighed. "I suppose you're right. Poor Harry."

Hermione laughed. "I've never heard anyone say that other than your Mum, you know."

"There's more to life than fighting," Ginny murmured. "There's a better way."

Hermione nodded. "Well, now, let's move off such a depressing topic, shall we? Ron and I have been discussing names. We're trying to keep from finding out the sex of the child, just to keep it a surprise. I think your Mum is going to drive us mad, though."

Ginny accepted the topic change with gratitude and began suggesting baby names, each more outrageous than the last. She felt almost guilty for pimping Hermione for Ministry gossip when she barely saw her sister-in-law, but knew that it would come in handy. She had a feeling that someone was about to blackmail Fragglethorpe into compliance.

 

***

 

While Millicent found an old Ravenclaw friend to direct at Fragglethorpe, Pansy wanted to cut straight to the heart of the dilemma. "Amelia Howe has the same hairdresser I do, and she goes in every week for a styling."

"That's awfully... wasteful," Ginny remarked, unable to wrap her mind around the concept of someone else managing hairstyle spells for her.

Pansy laughed. "It's not for the styling spells, Ginny. It's the company. It's talking to someone. It's being seen out in public and putting a good face on, pretending it's still safe to go out and about in the fashionable places like this is still a good place to live. It's political, even if it doesn't really look like it on the surface."

Ginny suddenly realized that if she was sober, Pansy's observation skills were as sharp as a tack. She had once been socially conscious, once been focused and nearly ruthless.

She let Pansy draw her into the ridiculously expensive shop. Pansy didn't need her recently bobbed hair cut any shorter, but she allowed the possibility that her own hair had grown a bit too long. She hadn't cut it in over a year, too preoccupied with practice. Hair bands had been enough to keep it out of her face during practice and games, and she was still untutored in ways to manage her hair other than the simplest of styles. It had simply never mattered before.

They came in as Amelia Howe was settling her bill. Pansy settled into her intoxicated routine. She smiled at the receptionist, pushing Ginny ahead of her and nearly into Amelia. "Lovey, my friend absolutely needs a new cut and style. Athletic, would you think?"

Amelia looked over and blinked at the sight of an embarrassed Ginny. "Oh, Miss Weasley."

Ginny looked at her and gave her a sheepish smile. "So sorry about this..."

"I'm Minister Howe's wife," she supplied helpfully. They shook, officially meeting for the first time. "You probably didn't notice us at the ball last month."

"You do look familiar," Ginny replied honestly, smiling at her. "I'm afraid I was so nervous that day that any introductions flew right out of my head. How are you?"

Amelia gave a laugh that was as hollow as her politician husband's. Ginny remembered it now, remembered thinking it was odd at the ball. "Still visiting all my favorite shops. It's fairly quiet about during the summer, you know."

"A good show about it being safe," Pansy said, head tilted to the side. Amelia looked startled at the comment, but Pansy didn't clarify it.

"How do you do it? I've been meaning to ask," Ginny murmured, leaning forward slightly. "I meant to ask you at the ball, since you always seem so confident. And Minister Howe is the very picture of moderation and progress in the Prophet. I'm so new at this, I feel about ready to trip over the charity work. How do you do it all?"

Her lips compressed somewhat. "Your charity seems to be doing well, Miss Weasley. You seem confident enough for anyone."

"At Quidditch, of course. But you seem to make politics look so easy, and I feel all muddled up if I try to think about it."

"The Prophet will do that," Amelia replied, not unkindly. Her voice dropped somewhat. "It's hardly a good source of information about the Ministry these days."

Ginny blinked, the picture of pure innocence. "Oh, dear. So what should I read? Everyone seems to expect me to know something, because my family is so involved." She felt like such a liar, but couldn't help herself. She could practically feel Pansy bouncing with approval behind her, only just keeping herself from giggling outright. Amelia obviously had her own opinion of things and was simply itching to tell someone what she thought. Getting her on their side would be easier than she thought.

"Well, you should probably talk with them," Amelia hedged, stepping slightly away from Ginny as someone else entered the shop.

Ginny ignored the new woman, who went straight to her hairdresser. "They're always so awfully busy, though. And I'd hate to feel like a bother."

"I'm sure you don't come across that way," Amelia assured her. "Perhaps we could meet up for lunch at some point?"

"Oh, that would be lovely," Ginny said. "Or would you be interested in joining Helping Hands? At our last meeting, we were looking into what it would cost to actually run an orphanage for the war children. We could use all the help we can get."

Amelia blinked in surprise. "You're honestly contemplating that?"

"It's a worthy cause," Ginny replied earnestly.

"To be sure, but an expensive one. Even the Ministry hasn't pushed for that yet."

"I thought that Minister Howe was interested in caring for the war orphans," Ginny replied, brows crinkling in thought. "I know you just said it isn't helpful, but that was in the Prophet not too long ago."

"Ah... Well, others in the Ministry don't agree that it's a priority."

"Then what is? I would think that the future generations are the priority. Otherwise, what's the point in making changes for the better?"

Amelia blinked in surprise at Ginny's fervent comment. "You have a point." Her lips pressed together in a parody of a smile. "It would seem that many of the older Ministers seem to have lost that vision."

"They seem awfully punitive in the Prophet," Ginny agreed. "The war's been over for years, but they seem to be more intent on punishing whoever's left than in fixing our world." She shrugged artlessly. "But then, I wouldn't know where to begin on that point anyway."

"It seems that you're doing your fair share," Amelia replied, shaking her head. "It's not every day a famous Quidditch player decides to do more with her fame than parlay it into advertising contracts. Social consciousness is sorely lacking in some younger people."

"It was Teddy Lupin that did it for me," Ginny confessed. "I knew his parents, and they never made me feel like the little I was doing wasn't worth something. It occurred to me that I wasn't really doing enough with the legacy that the Lupins had left behind. I want Teddy to grow up in a place where he could be proud of what they did."

Amelia's mouth parted slightly as she pondered how to respond to that. "I don't remember reading that the Lupins had a child."

"Orphaned in the war," Ginny clarified.

"The name seems somewhat familiar," Amelia hedged.

"You've probably seen it once or twice in the Prophet," Ginny told her helpfully. "Harry Potter is his godfather."

"Poor child," Amelia murmured.

Ginny nodded and leaned in conspiratorially. "I haven't the heart to explain why his parents died and why he lives with his grandmother." Ginny felt like a heel for what she was about to say, but pressed on further. "And with the way the current curfew restrictions are, whatever family he does have can't even visit him."

"Whatever do you mean?" Amelia asked, startled.

"Andromeda Tonks is caring for Teddy almost by herself. Narcissa's visited a few times, or took him on a few times. I saw Draco Malfoy playing with him during our Helping Hands meetings, too, but Teddy always has to go back home early. Because of the curfews, the Malfoys couldn't watch over Teddy after dark."

"Why would they be affected by curfews? Those were lifted a long time ago."

Pansy shook her head at the same time as Ginny. "Oh, no. All former Slytherins are kept under curfew," Pansy told Amelia. "I wasn't even in the war and I don't do anything constructive now, but I can't leave home after dark."

Amelia's eyes surreptitiously flicked to Pansy's exposed arms and took in the bare flesh. "You were never a Death Eater."

"Of course not," Pansy scoffed, rolling her eyes. "They were bullies at school and didn't make any kind of sense." She shrugged. "But being Slytherin is bad enough, you know. Suddenly we're all evil and nasty and out to harm everyone. When I was a first year student, they told us that Slytherins were clever but not bookish, and that was the difference between us and Ravenclaw House. And then came the Death Eater talk, but that never made sense to me."

Ginny could see the wheels turning in Amelia's head. "It's why we can't have Quidditch practice late or why games never last for days like they used to. A lot of teams have Slytherin players. In fact, our Seeker is Slytherin."

"Really?" Pansy asked, curious. "I didn't know that."

Ginny nodded at Pansy's and Amelia's surprise. "Two years above you in school, I think. She's a brilliant Seeker, and we'd never win half the games we play without her."

"It's been lovely to meet you," Amelia murmured, glancing at her watch. "I'm late for lunch with my husband, though. Perhaps you can owl me when the next meeting for Helping Hands is? I would love to attend."

Ginny beamed at her. "That would be wonderful, Mrs. Howe."

"Amelia," she corrected gently, smiling at her.

Ginny shook her hand again. "You must call me Ginny, then. Or Ginevra."

"That's a lovely name," Amelia told her. "I'll see you at the next meeting, then."

Pansy waited until Ginny was in a stylist's chair before she chortled with glee. "Hook, line and sinker," she laughed, sitting beside Ginny.

"You are a wicked, wicked influence on me."

Pansy snorted. "You don't trust yourself enough. As for me, I'm starting to think you can really pivot the world on its axis."

Ginny only laughed in response. She was too afraid to hope it was true.

 

***

 

Ginny had agreed to visit Pansy later that week so that they could go on yet another shopping trip. Pansy seemed to think that shopping was the perfect kind of pastime, though Ginny often got bored to tears with rows upon rows of clothing in Muggle stores or all of the obsequious clerks in the Wizarding shops. She wouldn't have minded staying home with a book before her afternoon Quidditch practice, but Pansy had whined that Millicent was busy and she really had no other friends to spend time with. Guilty, Ginny had Floo'ed over to the Chesterfield mansion just after lunch.

Pansy was sobbing in the drawing room, the sleeve of her shirt ripped and the neckline stretched out and nearly torn. She looked as though she had been throttled not that long before, as bruises hadn't yet started to form on her pale skin. Her hair was mussed and she appeared to be trying to hide behind it. The bottles of liquor were all smashed against the wall, and the table they had been placed on was overturned.

Ginny gingerly stepped into the room. "Are you all right, Pansy?"

She shook her head but didn't stop crying just yet. "You should go," she sobbed. "He'll be back, he'll just come back..."

"Who? Who did this to you, Pansy?" Ginny sat down next to Pansy and tried to pry her hands from her face. Pansy had been making all kinds of effort to be sober for most of the day, and this was definitely something that would have driven her to consume the entire bar if it hadn't already been smashed against the wall.

"I said awful things, of course," Pansy continued as if Ginny hadn't spoken. "Of course I did, I always do." Her sniffles sounded pitiful, the kinds of sounds a small child would make. "I hate it, Ginny, I hate it. He says I provoke him on purpose. He says I'm awful, all kinds of awful things that I know are a little bit true. I'm not doing right, I know that. I didn't want to... He made me... I know it's supposed to be my duty, but I didn't want to and he had the house elves come to hold me down..."

Ginny didn't want to be hearing this. She wanted to stick her fingers in her ears and shout to the rooftops to block the syllables tumbling down from Pansy's lips. Chesterfield was old and almost decrepit looking, a hundred years old if he was a day, and she simply didn't want to know what he was capable of.

"He'll be back. He said he would give me an hour to change my ways. I don't know what time it is. I have to go, I don't know where, I don't know..."

Ginny could hear footsteps down the hall, heavy, angry, thudding sounds. Chesterfield.

"Let me talk to him," Ginny said with more confidence than she felt. "Okay? You let me handle this, and I will try to get this to stop."

"I have to do my duty, but it hurts and I don't want to do this anymore." Her sobs were painful to listen to. "I know I had to agree to everything, but I can't do this anymore, Ginny. I can't, I know I have to, but I can't..." Pansy threw her arms around Ginny's shoulders and sobbed against the crook of her neck. "It hurts, Ginny, I didn't think it was going to when I agreed, but it hurts to do this all the time..."

Ginny looked up with a stony expression as Chesterfield walked into the room. His white hair was combed back, his jowly features pulled into an expression of scorn. He wore formal robes, but Wizarding robes didn't always require underthings. "Sir," she said stiffly, catching sight of him. Pansy stiffened in her arms.

Chesterfield's gaze narrowed at her. "What are you doing here?"

"We had plans to go out this afternoon, and I've just arrived." Ginny indicated Pansy's sobbing with a vague motion. "I was hardly expecting this."

"This is none of your concern," Chesterfield said, voice like chilled poison. "This is between myself and _my wife."_

Pansy shivered in Ginny's arms, her tears hot against the skin of Ginny's neck.

"This is true," Ginny began, ignoring Pansy's wail at her words. "But there are better ways than this, I'm sure."

If anything, Chesterfield's gaze grew even more frosty. "You dare—"

"There are other ways of siring an heir," Ginny interrupted blithely. "I'm not sure about your feelings of Muggle technology, but it does exist."

Chesterfield's face took on an ugly puce color, and he was too enraged to speak.

"I wouldn't have thought much on it myself," Ginny continued, gently pushing Pansy off of her shoulder. She patted Pansy's shoulder gently, but her eyes were locked on Chesterfield's puce face. "But there are many Muggle fertility clinics in the districts where we've gone shopping in London. It's something that they've looked into, and I don't think there's any harm done in seeing what they would have to say. The Wizarding world seems to think it's all right if there aren't any children in families, but the Muggles seem to go to great lengths to have them."

"Muggles would never understand this," Chesterfield replied, voice chilly with disapproval.

"Oh, I daresay they would," Ginny countered. She shrugged. "There are ads in many places for clinics and such, and it seems as though couples who've tried for years suddenly find themselves ready for children."

Pansy's sniffles were loud in the silence that followed.

Ginny didn't move, didn't reach out for Pansy. She held Chesterfield's assessing gaze, refusing to back down. Somehow she knew that if she dropped her gaze, if she seemed even a little bit unsure in what she was saying, Pansy would suffer for it. Chesterfield would take her words as deception and she would never be allowed to see Pansy again. While Ginny wasn't necessarily as confident as she felt – what did she know about Muggle fertility clinics? – she certainly knew that the Muggles had to have the same kind of problems and some kind of treatment for it. Hell, she was sure that St. Mungo's would be able to have some kind of treatment for it if Wizarding families were confident enough to discuss the issue.

After what felt like eternity, Chesterfield nodded. "I am unfamiliar with Muggle ways," he began stiffly. "You're Pansy's friend, and you visit Muggle places, don't you?"

"On a fairly regular basis," Ginny agreed with a slight nod.

"Perhaps you could look into these things. Discreetly, of course."

Ginny nodded and tried not to show her relief. "Of course."

Pansy rubbed at her face like a child and couldn't meet anyone's eyes. She flinched terribly when a house elf Apparated into the room. Ginny's gut clenched, and she tried very, very hard not to loathe Chesterfield where he stood.

"An owl arrived for Miss Weasley," the elf squeaked. He wrung his hands and looked about the room as if expecting to be struck at any moment. "There must be a response."

"Do you have the message?" Ginny asked, holding back a sigh. While she certainly wouldn't mind getting away from this tense household, she also didn't want to leave Pansy alone with Chesterfield in the mood he was in.

The trembling house elf handed over the slip of parchment. He continued to wring his hands as Ginny scanned the message.

Ginny sighed and scrubbed at her face with her hands. "I got the week wrong, Pans. _This_ was the week we were going to have the early practice." She looked closely at Pansy. "They want to know if I'm going to be there today. Do you need me to stay with you? We can start looking into this thing if you want me to stay."

Pansy meekly peered through her hair and then shook her head. "T-tomorrow? Are you free tomorrow? I feel ill today."

"Are you sure?"

Her voice was a mere shadow of its usual playfulness. "I feel ill. Maybe tomorrow would be best for going about Muggle London."

"All right. If you're sure. I'll check back on you later today, all right? After practice."

"She'll be fine, Miss Weasley," Chesterfield interjected smoothly. "I appreciate your concern in this. As well as your discretion," he added, voice brooking no argument.

Ginny bristled at the implication. "Of course. Pansy is my friend, and I would help her with whatever she needs done."

As Ginny left the mansion, she suddenly hated her easy life. Quidditch, loving family, shagging Draco rotten in her flat. She had it easy in comparison to some of her former schoolmates, and she had never even realized it. She had to do something to help Pansy, and this had to be done quickly. The poor girl had looked ready to break in her parlor, and Ginny didn't like seeing her that way.

She threw her frustration into her game, but she knew that she wasn't completely focused. Still, no one seemed to notice the difference but Viola Pickering. Of all the other teammates, Ginny counted her as a close friend. With all of her recent efforts with Helping Hands, she had been ignoring Viola. The thought made her stomach turn with regret.

"You're not looking good, Gin," Viola said without preamble once they were the only ones in the locker room.

Ginny smiled at her wanly. "I got caught up at Pansy's." She shook her head. "I can't talk about it, but it was awful."

Viola bit her lip. "You think you can't mix and match friends, eh?"

Ginny looked at her, startled. "What?"

"You know, you've never asked any of us on the team to join your charity work?"

"I haven't?" she asked, dimly aware that she sounded like an imbecile.

Viola shook her head and pulled her dark hair into a ponytail behind her head. She was fairly muscular but striking, and few people seemed to be aware that her mind was sharp behind her clear blue eyes. "I know some people are still skittish about Slyths, but if you're such good chums with some, they can't be all bad."

"I'm so sorry, Vi, I didn't mean to seem like a bad friend." She looked up and bit her lip. "I don't know what to think about what I found out today. It's a secret, it can't go anywhere."

Viola nodded and looked around the locker room. "All right. I know a place. We can get some takeaway curry and talk it out, yeah? And then we'll talk about this charity business. You know Horace and I are interested in such things. Believe it or not, Heather could whip up a bunch of good ideas to drum up donations. She'd certainly dated or snogged half of Wizarding England by now, you know."

Ginny gave a bout of startled laughter. "You know, I hadn't thought of that."

"You're so busy taking on the worries of the world, you know," Viola continued. She deftly braided her thick ponytail and tied off the end. "S'okay if you get a little help along the way. And what's the name of that charity of yours again anyway?" she added pointedly.

Ginny burst out into genuine laugher now. "Helping Hands, and you know it."

"So there you go," Viola told her cheekily. "No plans tonight, have ya?"

Shaking her head, Ginny grinned. "Sounds like now I do."

"Darn right you do. So we'll talk about this thing that's got your game off, and don't think I haven't noticed, Gin. And then we'll talk about what us Quidditch folk can contribute to high society charity work. And it'll be okay, yeah?"

Ginny gave Viola a swift hug. "You always make so much sense."

Viola's grin was cocky and playful at the same time. "Of course I do. It's why Horace will never, ever leave, don'tcha know."

Arm in arm, they left the locker room.

***  
***


	8. Linking The Chains Together

Ginny arrived early at Malfoy Manor to let Draco know about the new arrivals at the current Helping Hands meeting. Her owl hadn't delivered her note to him, though Millicent and Blaise had received her notes. Pansy had been told the day before, during their outing to Muggle London. She had charmed away the bruises that Ginny knew she had to have, and visibly looked put together. It had dissolved into a puddle of nerves the moment they stepped into a clinic, and she had clung to Ginny throughout the entire meeting. Luckily, they were able to be seen the same day, and Ginny found herself doing most of the talking while Pansy looked miserable. She had lied, saying they were sisters and Pansy was simply nervous around doctors. Pansy had been utterly helpless about her medical history and getting blood drawn, and had nearly bolted from the room when the doctors were explaining the intricacies of fertility. Ginny had been the one to explain everything to Chesterfield the day before, and had to bear his outraged look at having to go in to the clinic to be evaluated himself. Pansy had hidden her face throughout the entire recital, but Ginny had stood her ground. She ultimately got Chesterfield to agree to attend the follow up appointment, as it would be the only one he would actually have to attend.

Ginny pushed the events out of her mind and focused on trying to find Draco. The house elves had been particularly unhelpful, and so she took it upon herself to wander throughout the Manor. It seemed much less imposing now than her first visit; apparently it had needed time to get used to her presence.

Lucius Malfoy abruptly turned a corner of the hallway, and Ginny nearly collided with him. She half-jumped a step backward to keep from treading on his toes, and met his gaze steadily. She knew that Draco was afraid of what his intentions were, what plots he might try to hatch behind his cold eyes and waxen expressions. Ginny wasn't afraid. She knew he had dark intent, and she knew where his loyalties really were. She had lived with possession from the Dark Lord himself, and she knew what evil was. In comparison, Lucius Malfoy was measured pettiness and hate, a self-absorbed ball of self-righteousness and prejudice.

"Miss Weasley," he said, voice unctuous and oily. He smiled, just barely, with a familiar glint of malevolence in his eye.

"Mr. Malfoy," Ginny replied, voice level and controlled. While she was primed and alert, she betrayed no fear or lack of confidence. She wasn't afraid of him. She knew what he was about, and there was no fear within her. Draco might call her stupid and a bloody Gryffindor for it, but she wasn't afraid of petty evils.

"I've wanted to congratulate you on your successes," he continued, stepping slightly forward. He seemed somewhat surprised that she didn't step back in response, but the satisfied expression slid back onto his face. "You have done so much for one so young and inexperienced."

"I should thank you for the list of contacts," Ginny replied, voice level and confident. "They proved to be most useful in our endeavors." Her voice was arch, clipped, and nothing like her usual cadence of speech. If she stopped to think about it, she was channeling her inner Narcissa Malfoy. It would have made her laugh hysterically.

Nonplused, Lucius straightened his shoulders. "It's all for a good cause, isn't it? Some noble prattle for the masses?"

"We're making everyone equal," Ginny told him, voice icy. "Everyone evaluated on their own merits, everyone answerable for their own crimes." Her lips twisted into a mockery of a smile, and Lucius seemed unnerved by it.

He reached out and grabbed her throat, his cold fingers sliding across her skin. "You should have died," he hissed, composure breaking apart suddenly. "You should have resurrected our Lord the way you were meant to!"

Ginny didn't even think twice before her wand was out and the hex left her lips. It was a split second, faster than anyone ever gave her credit for, and Lucius was across the room with boils breaking out across his face as a horde of bats circled his head. He screamed, high and frightened and fragile, and feet pounded on the stairs behind her.

Draco skidded to a stop next to her, panting for breath. "What—?" He turned to Ginny, eyes wide and skin a different shade of pale. "Ginevra?"

"He tried to choke me," she told him evenly. She watched his eyes track down to her throat, to the faint trace of red still visible on her skin. "I couldn't allow that, now could I? Don't worry, it's not fatal."

He gave her a wry smile. "I remember the bats, but the boils are new."

Ginny let him steer her up the stairs and down a twisting maze of corridors. She didn't even try to figure out where they were going. Now that the adrenaline high was fading, she could feel the tremble in her hands. It was a good thing she never stepped foot on the grounds without her wand. The Manor itself might have accepted her, Narcissa might respect her and Draco might care for her, but Lucius never would.

Draco brought her to his bedroom and locked the door with a key and a half dozen different locking spells. He sat her down on his bed and ran his hands through his hair as he looked about the room in a daze. "I don't know what he was thinking," he whispered in an agonized tone. "I can't..." He looked at her with a dazed expression. "If I had really lost you today... If he really got a chance to choke you..."

Ginny got up and took his frantic face within her hands. "I'm fine, Draco. It'll take more than an angry father to get the best of me."

The words didn't soothe him at all. "He tried to _hurt_ you, Ginevra. He tried to take you from me. I can't... He can't do that. He can't take you from me."

She kissed him, soft and gentle. She tried to press her love for him into the kiss, to let him know that she was safe and had no intention of going anywhere. The kiss deepened, and before she knew it they were pulling off each other's clothes. Draco stripped her naked and gently pushed her back, toward his bed. She scrambled on top of it eagerly, taking in the sight of his naked form. She grinned at him when he paused. "What? Scared of me?"

Draco snorted inelegantly. "I already know what you're capable of, Ginevra. I'm just thinking of which might be the best way to get you to come today." He playfully arranged himself into a classic thinker's pose. "There really isn't enough time to do everything I want to do."

Ginny wagged her eyebrows suggestively at him. "Well, then, I guess I'll have to make do with the abridged version and take the rest of it later."

Draco approached the bed, something like reverence in his expression. He hooked her leg over his shoulder and lowered himself to the bed, his hands on her hips. He buried his face between her thighs, inhaling the musky scent of her sex before sweeping his tongue out to taste her. She gave a gasping moan, her hand going to his head, fingers threading through his hair. He licked and suckled, using his tongue and teeth, taking pleasure in each noise, each moan, each sigh he drew from her. When she finally came, he rode the shuddering and bucking of her body, drinking her in. He lifted his head, taking in the sight of her loose-limbed sprawl, her chest heaving with each shuddering breath. He let her leg fall from his shoulder and crawled up her body, licking his lips before pressing her into the covers, kissing her, letting her taste herself on his lips.

Ginny's legs opened wide as he settled himself between her thighs. He grinned as his hand slid between her spread legs, his fingers lightly grazing the skin of her inner thighs, climbing higher until he found the juncture of her legs and teased her skin with his touch. "Mm... Draco..." she moaned, head lolling on his coverlet. "I like that."

"Think we're done for today?"

"You awful tease, you!" Ginny gasped, swatting his chest. "Don't you dare stop now!"

Draco laughed as he thrust inside her, strong and powerful, pinning her arms above her head as her back arched with pleasure. "I love you," he whispered, eyes locking to hers. "I love you, Ginevra Weasley. I don't ever want to be that frightened for you again."

Ginny gasped and arched into his thrusts. She was so close, hovering just at the edge of coming again, losing the ability to speak. "Love... you... so much..."

And then she came, shattering to pieces, the universe spiraling out around her in a haze of pleasure and sensation. Draco came soon after, falling to his elbows on either side of her. He could barely breathe, and touched his forehead to hers. "Not how I imagined telling you," he admitted after a long moment.

She grinned. "Not how I imagined hearing it, but I'm rather glad I did."

"Me, too."

"Have we much more time before the meeting?"

Draco looked at his bedside clock and grimaced. "Not if we plan to be presentable," he groaned.

"You'll just have to make it up to me later, then." Ginny grinned cheekily at him and wiggled her hips suggestively beneath him. He laughed, nodding, and they disentangled themselves.

They arrived separately to the meeting area, looking cool and composed. Neither gave any indication that they had been shagging each other mercilessly, and Draco took his place at the desk he used as the charity's recording secretary. Narcissa lofted an eyebrow at him but said nothing. "Your father seems to be indisposed this afternoon."

"That's too bad, Mother," Draco murmured. He didn't look up, but merely took out the parchment and ink he would need. "Was he planning on attending today's meeting?"

Her lips curled into something resembling a smile. "Certainly not, though we will be getting new members to the charity. I would think there will be much less conspiring today."

Ah, that was the reason Ginny had actually come in early. Draco had never gotten around to asking her. He did look up as she came into the room and greeted his mother warmly. Narcissa wasn't fooled by their behavior at all, but at least seemed to give her tacit approval.

The others came into the room, as well as three other members of Ginny's Quidditch team and Amelia Howe. Draco didn't know how Ginny had managed that one, but somehow wasn't surprised as he felt he should have been. They discussed the donation monies that had been collected so far, stored in a secure Gringotts vault. They had funded some small kitchens that helped to feed the war orphans, but the majority of the money collected from the ball still needed to be spent appropriately. Millicent discussed the different estates that she had evaluated for eventual purchase by Helping Hands, as well as the thought that perhaps it should be large enough not just for the children and caretaking staff, but to have a small entry school on grounds to prepare the children for Hogwarts. She had gone to a shelter and had been shocked to realize that some of the eight year old children didn't know how to read well and could barely write, as no one had been able to send them to a school.

"You'll need more money for that," Heather Goodwright remarked, frowning. "My cousin teaches at an entry school, and it's not as easy as it looks. Depending on the number of children that are going to be at this household, you'll need at least three or four teachers."

"That's not going to be easy, then," Ginny said, shaking her head sadly. "Between the money left over from the ball and the distrust for us already, no one would want to donate more."

"Celebrity Quidditch," Viola said suddenly, snapping her fingers. Even her boyfriend frowned at the apparent non sequitur. "What? We're a popular bunch, yeah? So if we can put together even a pickup game, don't you think that there's a lot of folk who would be willing to pay for those tickets? We can donate our time and play, and there's the extra money we need to hire on a few teachers for these kids."

"Ohmigosh," Heather cried, nearly bouncing in her seat from excitement. "It's wonderful! That would work out so well. Do you think we could get Ministry officers in on it, too, Mrs. Howe? That would be smashing!"

Draco could hardly believe his ears. It was good luck, and that it came from someone other than his little group had to make it look better. Amelia was smiling and nodding, which suddenly gave him a spark of hope that he hadn't expected.

"I know my husband loves the game, and there's bound to be more that would be willing to play for such a good cause."

"Draco, you used to play in school," Millicent said, looking at him with a wry smile. "Why don't you join up as our representative?"

"Ginevra's a professional, so she should really be our representative..." Draco hedged.

"Yes, but I'm a Chaser. You used to play Seeker." Ginny grinned at Draco cheekily. "This sounds like such a wonderful idea, and just the thing for late summer when it starts to cool down. The Quidditch season is just about to pick up at that point, and interest will be at a high." She gave Heather and Viola wide grins.

All in all, the meeting was a success, and everyone seemed buoyed by the good news. Even Pansy, who had been sitting throughout the meeting like a sober lump on a couch near Ginny, had seemed to perk up by the end. Draco escorted everyone to the Floo room, thanking them for coming and for their efforts on behalf of the charity.

Amelia Howe seemed to tarry on her way out. "Mrs. Howe," Draco murmured. He grasped her proffered hand and gave it a gallant kiss. "You honor us with your interest in our cause. Thank you so much for stopping by today."

"I was intrigued when Ginny first mentioned it the other day," Amelia murmured. "I must say, it seems as though you all are going to make a wonderful difference in these children's lives."

"I hope so," Draco told her honestly. "It would make our sacrifices worth something, then."

"Sacrifices?" Amelia asked, brow furrowing. "What sacrifices?"

Draco blinked and could have kicked himself for the slip. "Never mind, Mrs. Howe. It's not that big a deal, and it's what we have to live with now. It's a small price to pay."

"I must admit, you have my full attention and curiosity at that."

Draco grimaced. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, Mrs. Howe. I'm aware that my family is hardly in anyone's good graces after the war." He shrugged at her helplessly. "I'm aware that there were many Dark wizards in my family tree, as well as those now who think that trying to stay out of things or play both sides is cowardly. Sometimes you do things you aren't proud of to survive in terrible times, but you still get blamed for it."

Amelia was surprised at the outburst, and it showed in her expression. "My dear boy, whatever do you mean?"

He must be a blithering idiot. "The curfews, Mrs. Howe," Draco explained patiently. "Take Millicent, for example. She would never call it that, because she isn't sure where the relationship is going, but she's dating Ginevra's brother. If he didn't walk her home after dinner every night, she would be arrested for being out after curfew. She didn't take part in the war, she never got marked, she didn't do anything but be a Slytherin at school." Draco noticed that Amelia's glace flicked to his arms and then back up to his face. He was wearing a long sleeve shirt, so she couldn't see anything. With a sigh, he unrolled his sleeves. "I know what they say about me, Mrs. Howe. I'm not so deluded that I don't hear the whispers. I did what I could to keep my family safe, and there some things I would redo if I could. But I'm forever going to pay for my family's mistakes. Whoever was in Slytherin House at school is going to pay for the mistakes of a generation that thought they were doing the right thing."

"Ginevra mentioned this curfew, too. I didn't realize..."

"No offense, but no one knows about it if you're not a Slytherin." Draco shrugged helplessly at her. "It doesn't make sense, but that's the way it is. No one wants to let go of it. I refuse to believe that one fourth of all children are simply born bad. They tell us that we're clever and will find friends when we're sorted into Slytherin House, but once we get there we're told that we're not clever but evil. That somehow at eleven years old, everyone knows that we're going to turn into Dark wizards and should be shunned for the monsters we aren't yet."

Something in Amelia's expression made Draco stop. He hadn't meant to pour out his frustrations, and certainly not in such an artless manner. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his eyes dropping from her face. "I didn't mean to take this out on you. For some reason, though, you're very easy to talk to, even though you probably don't need to hear this."

Her face softened, and she clasped Draco's hand. "I was a Hufflepuff in school," she began, voice soft and encouraging. "I've never had to deal with any of that. My husband and I were never graced with children, so I don't know what you young people have to deal with today. It is a much harsher world for you than I realized. I thought the war was over and everything was fine again. I thought this charity work was just to make a few glittering people feel good. I certainly didn't realize that there's a real need out there, real loss still waiting to be fixed." Amelia smiled at Draco's wan expression. "Chin up, young man. I'll do whatever is in my power to help the charity as well as all the others that are still marked by this war. I just didn't know how far it went, how much the fear is still ingrained in some of us."

"It doesn't help if the Prophet makes us sound like such horrible people," Draco replied, his lips twisting in a mockery of a smile. "I swear, Mrs. Howe, I'm not such a heartless bastard as the Prophet seems to try to paint me."

Amelia gave his hand a squeeze. "Of course not. No rake hell bent on the destruction of society would think to help children he doesn't know. You wouldn't be so concerned for your friends if you were anything like the monster they like to write about."

"Thank you for listening, Mrs. Howe," Draco told her honestly. "It's not something I talk about much. At all, really. No one seems to care." _No one but Ginevra, and you're just as easy to talk to as she is._

She gave him a genuine smile, and Draco could see that she had been quite the beauty in her prime. There was something that reminded him of Ginny, which had probably led to the impromptu confession. "You've found someone now, young Mr. Malfoy. I meant what I just said. I'll do whatever is in my power to help."

After she left by Floo, Draco retired to his bedroom. It had been an overwhelming and exhausting day, and he still owed Ginny some private time that evening. He was going to have to rest up to do it properly. Though, knowing her, she would have some kind of elaborate home cooked meal ready once he arrived. Draco had to admit, he had been unaware that culinary skills would be so welcome. Oh, he knew for a fact that the house elves were the ones to cook at Malfoy Manor and at Hogwarts, and many fancy Wizarding restaurants had elves to speed production. He never thought he would enjoy the thought of Ginny in the kitchen deliberately making something he would enjoy. He never thought he would like watching her move about her flat, a confident glow on her face as she hummed while stirring something in a pot. He never thought he would actually like taking her directions to set a table himself. It was homey in a way he had never been exposed to before, and it carried a kind of comfort he wasn't used to.

Sure enough, when he arrived there was a duck roasting in her oven, vegetables stewing in a pot and the scent of freshly baked bread. Her hair was tied in a simple ponytail, red wisps falling out about her face. She was in an oversized T shirt that was spotted with sauce stains, barefoot as she tidied up her kitchen. "Oi, Draco, you're early," she said cheerily as he locked down her Floo connection. Her grin was infectious. "I've almost done up everything in here."

Draco made a humming noise of appreciation. "Maybe I can start with dessert first?"

Ginny laughed at his playful leer. "Bad habit there, Draco. Whatever would your Mum say?"

"Mother luckily can't read minds. If she could, she would be absolutely _shocked_ at all the things I plan to do with you tonight."

Ginny's mouth ran dry and her breath caught in her throat. "Really, now?"

"Mm-hm," Draco nodded, approaching her kitchen. He pulled the elastic from her hair and tugged the T-shirt off of her. She was wearing a camisole and panties set beneath, and nothing else. "Mm. Ginevra, my favorite dessert of all."

He cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her, hot and open and greedy all at the same time. Her tongue invaded his mouth first, her hands sliding around his waist. The tips of her fingers slipped beneath the edge of his trousers, working his shirt loose. Ginny wanted to feel his bare skin, wanted to feel the smooth play of muscle beneath her hands. She liked his hands, the aristocratic curve of them, the way they could bend her will in knots as they moved over her fevered flesh. He could be such a naughty, naughty boy, and she loved every moment of his diligent attentions.

They stumbled from the kitchen after Ginny made a halfhearted attempt to shut everything off so it wouldn't burn. She couldn't tell if her stove was actually off or if the food would wind up burnt to a crisp once they were finally sated. Truly, it didn't matter anyway.

The camisole came off first, somewhere in the living room. Draco's shoes came next, kicked off and tossed across the room. His shirt and pants were tossed across her hallway and her panties were removed somewhere along the threshold of her bedroom. They were both gloriously naked, and Draco pushed her backward toward her bed. He had been taunted by the taste of her all throughout that meeting today, and he wanted more of her. Draco ran his hands across her belly, sliding down toward the juncture of her thighs. He could smell her already, the heady scent of her arousal, and was instantly addicted again. He knew she'd be so wet for him, and he could almost see it glisten against the ruddy curls on her sex. He breathed in the scent of her, kneeling by the side of her bed, wanting to slide all of his fingers inside her, solid and hot.

Ginny made a soft humming noise in the back of her throat as he reverently kissed her inner thighs, his fingers tracing the edges of her soft folds. "Would it be horrible if I said I wanted to taste you, too?" she whispered.

_Thank you, Merlin,_ Draco wanted to say. The first time he had thought about bedding Ginny, he had been afraid that she would be a prude in bed. Once he discovered that her wild streak included a willingness to try just about anything, Draco was certain that he had made someone somewhere very, very happy to be rewarded in such a way.

"Ginevra, whatever you want to try is fine with me," Draco replied, his voice husky with need. He clambered up onto the bed, hovering over her. He straddled her head carefully, then positioned himself over her wet heat. She tasted like honey, warm and sticky over his tongue, and he reveled in the taste of her. Her skin was fever warm beneath his mouth, and he altered his position slightly so he could slide a finger inside of her as he sucked on her clit. Ginny had taken him into her mouth and was clutching his ass almost desperately, holding him in place. Her tongue ran along the length of his cock, its head sliding across the ridges of the roof of her mouth. She made soft mewling sounds in the back of her throat as he sucked on her, the sound making his cock twitch. The vibrations from her throat carried along his length straight to his balls, and Draco moaned against her mound. He moved his finger faster, then slid a second one inside her. She was slick and tight, the inner muscles grasping at his fingers. He could feel them tighten as she drew closer to coming, could feel her hips twitch beneath him. She came almost abruptly, spasming around his fingers. It was all he could do to keep from coming with her, her muffled cries around his cock almost too good to resist.

He pulled out of her mouth despite her weak protests and thrust inside her. He closed his eyes as he did, the exquisite feel of her almost too much to bear. Ginny's hand ran down his back as he moved, her fingertips light across the skin. She arched up, moaning, her own eyes falling shut as she tried to keep herself from clenching down around his cock as it moved inside her. She grabbed his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle as she gasped for breath. She was going to come again, could barely gasp out a warning before she could feel it wash over her in waves. Her hands fell down across his back as the pleasure began to soften, and she could feel the muscles there as he kept his balance above her. There was tension in Draco's arms, in his entire body as he tried to keep from coming inside her.

"Ah, Draco," Ginny whimpered softly, opening her eyes. "You feel so good."

Her voice was enough to send him tumbling over the edge, spilling inside her hot depths.

Draco lay above her, panting for breath, hoping he wasn't crushing her. "We get more dessert after dinner, right?" he asked, voice hopeful.

Ginny's laughter was all the response he needed.  



	9. Miracles and Dreams

"He's going to hate this," Pansy whispered miserably as she and Ginny got into the Underground station. She had dressed down somewhat, as she had been doing over the past two weeks of visits to the Muggle fertility clinic. She hated feeling so dependent on Ginny, hated being sober, hated feeling Chesterfield's wretched eyes boring into her back. She hated _feeling,_ and hated especially the feeling that she was a useless piece of wasted space. Chesterfield constantly made scathing remarks about her femininity, that she was inadequate and couldn't even bear a child, which was all she was good for.

Ginny grasped her hand and pulled her onto the Tube. "I'll tell him," she promised. "You'll just sit there and look pretty and I'll handle the whole thing."

"I should tell him," Pansy whispered. "I'm supposed to be the patient, right?"

"Yeah, well, he'll think it's an excuse coming from you. But from me, and if I wave all this paperwork in front of him, and he'll believe it."

Pansy was silent as Ginny dragged her across London to the pub that would take them back to the Wizarding section. From there, they Apparated to the restricted area within Chesterfield Manor. Ginny had a house elf summon Chesterfield, and only later did she realize how imperious she sounded while doing it. She had absorbed some of the haughtier aspects of rich society life without even realizing it, and was growing more and more adept at manipulating others to do as she wished. There should have been some kind of hesitancy at that, but it didn't bother her one bit.

She should have been afraid of that, but wasn't.

Chesterfield didn't enjoy being summoned, least of all by Ginny Weasley when he was examining his account books. He hated numbers, he hated mathematics and he hated the feeling that he was small and impotent. He didn't understand the papers Ginny shoved at him, the Muggle words that sat still on the page.

"It's not Pansy's fault that you both can't have a child," Ginny said without preamble, watching Chesterfield try to interpret the numbers and names of all the hormones the clinic had tested for. "According to their tests, you're not fertile, sir."

The "sir" tacked on the end didn't placate him in the least. "WHAT?!"

Pansy flinched at Chesterfield's roar and shrank back next to Ginny. For her part, Ginny sat down implacably on the drawing room couch and refused to be cowed. If anything, the very appearance of being comfortable seemed to make Chesterfield more enraged.

"All of her hormones – and I have to admit, it sounds awfully complicated but they did explain it all to us – are normal. Her other labs, whatever it was they were looking for, are normal. They examined her with all sorts of Muggle instruments and said it all looks normal. But they went over your sample with them and determined that there's not enough there to father a child. I don't know how they measure these things, but it's all there in that copy of the paperwork they gave us." Ginny gestured toward the sheaf of paper in Chesterfield's hands. She almost felt sorry for the old man, at his bluster that she was sure was just covering up his feeling of inadequacy. She was used to people telling her she wasn't good enough just because she had grown up a poor Weasley. This man had been raised to think everything he touched should turn to gold.

Chesterfield found the summary of his visit to the clinic and sank down heavily into a seat opposite Ginny. While he didn't understand most of what was on the page, he did clearly understand the assessment at the bottom. _Low sperm count, low motility, some discoloration in sample. It is most likely male factor infertility._

"The doctors at the clinic were telling us about options," Ginny began when the silence grew to be uncomfortable.

"There are no options," Chesterfield growled, throwing the papers aside.

"The doctor was talking about donors or adoption," Ginny continued blithely. "I would think adoption is out of the question for you, even though there are plenty of orphans about that would be most grateful for a home." She shrugged. "Now, the doctor was talking about sperm banks and such things that they have out there. Honestly, I wouldn't think that it's a good option for you at all, sir."

Chesterfield blinked at her matter-of-fact tone. "What? Why?"

"Because quite frankly, they're Muggle sperm banks. Yours is a very old line, and Pansy's from a Pureblood family as well. While it's all very well and good to espouse equality in public, I can't see you taking a risk with a Muggle donor. You won't know if the child has magic or not, and that wouldn't bode well for a Chesterfield heir."

Chesterfield had gone abruptly pale at Ginny's words, then nodded. "You are quite right, Miss Weasley. While there's nothing wrong with Muggleborn wizards, I certainly couldn't have a Squib for an heir."

Ginny sighed as she nodded. She knew what the old line prejudices were, and had been doing a lot of thinking on the way back from the clinic. Pansy had been a quivering mass of fear, and Ginny had to think fast on her own. _Not like I haven't done it before,_ she thought to herself, taking in a breath. _Though explaining away a prank is a lot different from explaining to an old man what he should do..._

"I would think a Wizard donor would be appropriate, someone with enough of a lineage that you can be assured that the child would have magic." Ginny gave Chesterfield a helpless smile. "To be perfectly honest, the first name that came to mind was Blaise Zabini."

Pansy went perfectly still next to Ginny, her grip almost punishing on her arm. "What did you say?" she whispered, stunned.

"I don't know many single Pureblood wizards," Ginny continued, looking at Chesterfield directly. He was assessing every one of her words carefully. "My brother is currently sort-of seeing someone, so he's out of the question. Draco Malfoy would be acceptable, but there's always the rumor about Dark wizards in his family. I wouldn't think you would want to subject yourself to something like that. So that leaves me with Blaise. He was never involved in the war, was never accused of being a Dark wizard and is intelligent. In fact, the Minister of Magic himself had told me he thought Blaise was a Ravenclaw. He's a whiz at finances and is from an old family. He's unattached to anyone, so he could even help out with the child, if need be. You can be sure that whatever child Pansy has will be intelligent and magical, and would be a worthy Chesterfield heir."

Chesterfield sat back in his chair. He stared at Ginny long and hard, and she stared right back. If he was expecting her to flinch, he would be sorely disappointed. She had learned to lie from the best of them, and the recent months of subterfuge had honed that talent to a fine edge. What gave her even more credence was that she was telling him the truth. Blaise would truly be suitable, even if he wasn't already madly in love with Pansy.

"You've thought about this."

Ginny shrugged. "It was a long way back from the clinic, sir."

He didn't even look at Pansy, who had collapsed on the couch, her pale skin an even lighter shade. "You care very much about this outcome."

"Pansy's my friend," Ginny told him evenly. "If having a child for you will make her happy, then of course I'd try my best to help that happen."

Now his eyes swung to Pansy's pale face, to the frightened expression as she almost silently pleaded with him not to be angry with her. Chesterfield looked back at Ginny's determined expression, lips pursed in thought.

"It wouldn't do for some Muggle to go messing about with a Chesterfield heir," he said after a long moment. He breathed heavily, then pushed himself up to his feet. "I don't like the idea of a proxy, but Chesterfields have always been conceived in this home. It's how the lands get into their very blood."

Ginny had heard of the superstition, but kept silent. Chesterfield had to agree to this, or else it would never, never happen.

"I'll owl the fellow," Chesterfield said suddenly. He eyed the two women on the couch with a level gaze. "I suppose if he's such a financial genius that he's mistaken for a Ravenclaw, I should take him on as a protégé. It wouldn't be so untoward then. I'll have to install him here and get him transferred to my company." Chesterfield turned a sour glance to Pansy. "You'll bed him until you've gotten an heir, Pansy. That's settled."

Pansy blinked, her jaw dropping open. "But—"

"You'll do as I say!" Chesterfield ordered. His voice was soft, but carried more force to it than if he'd shouted at her. "You'll get me a Chesterfield heir as promised when I wed you, even if it is by proxy."

The matter settled, Chesterfield left the room.

Pansy turned her startled gaze to Ginny's calm one. "You..." She shook her head, tears coming to hear eyes. "Oh dear Merlin, Ginny, you're _brilliant!"_

Ginny sighed as she caught Pansy's frantic hug. "Oi, Pans. Don't thank me yet. He made it sound like he's going to watch the two of you."

Her shocked laughter was heartening. It was the first sign of humor that Ginny had seen in weeks, and it was something closer to the Pansy she had gotten to know. "Oh, he's a dirty old man, all right. But I don't care, I tell you. This is something I can do. This is what makes it tolerable. I can't believe you've made it all possible."

"I promised I'd help," Ginny told her. She pulled back from the embrace with a grin. "And just think. If I can pull this off, I can do anything."

"You know what? I'm really starting to believe in you," Pansy told her. "Anything you say you'll do, and it happens." Her grin was almost watery in relief. "Whatever help you need, anything, you just tell me."

Ginny thought about it for a moment. "Know anyone interested in a charitable pick up game of Quidditch? We're still a few players short."

Pansy's laughter was high and almost manic. "Of course I do! Oh, now I can really help and not feel so bad all the time." She stopped as soon as she jumped up from the couch. "And to think, I'm actually sober for all this. I would've thought it was something I dreamed up."

"See? Sobriety isn't all bad. And you'll have to stay sober when there's a baby."

Her expression was soft and almost dreamy. "For that baby, I'd want to be."

"All right, then. Let's go plan a game."

***

The first thing Blaise did at the café meeting was sweep Ginny into a bear hug, swinging her around and kissing her on both cheeks. Draco looked on amused, and Millicent watched them with wide eyes. "Whatever happened?"

"Ginny's performed a miracle," Blaise declared, sitting down next to Pansy. He caught her hand in his and squeezed it lovingly. "She convinced Chesterfield that I'm the only wizard capable of solving his problems. That old codger is taking me on in Chesterfield Enterprises and all but pushing me at Pansy to sire his heir."

Millicent choked on her tea. "What?"

"Exactly," Blaise told her, grinning. "Can you believe it?"

"And there might be more than one child in your future, just so you know," Ginny warned him teasingly. "If he's really from the old guard, and I suspect he is, he'll at least want one spare, if not two."

Blaise couldn't stop grinning, and Pansy couldn't keep her hands off of him.

"Now that they're paired off for the rest of eternity," Draco began dryly, "What's going on with you and Percy?" he asked Millicent. She turned a shade of pink that Pansy used to wear, and couldn't meet his gaze. She mumbled something. "What was that?"

"He's taking me to the game next week, all right?" she snapped at him. "In public. In front of everyone and his parents. I have to meet his parents." Millicent suddenly turned frightened eyes at Ginny. "It's one thing to see them at that ball before, but I didn't have to really talk to them then. Now I have to meet them!"

She wanted to laugh, but knew that it was something Draco dreaded as well. "They're really not that bad," she said, raising her hands in a defensive gesture. "Really. They're good people, very protective of us."

"Exactly! And here I am, Slytherin as they come, and Percy dropping all those family dinners to spend time with me every night."

Ginny burst out laughing, shaking her head. "Millie, we _want_ him gone. Merlin, you have no idea how many times Mum's tried to introduce him to some young neighborhood witch only to have it go horribly wrong because he's such a stuffed shirt."

"But he's not," Millicent protested hotly. "He's so sweet, and he's such a good kisser..."

_"Percy?!"_ Ginny cried disbelievingly. "That priss?" She shook her head. "Oh, don't tell me. This is not something I need to be hearing about my own brother."

Draco snickered. "Seems awfully perverse if you ask me."

"Oi, shut it," Ginny admonished, swatting his arm. "You're not helping matters!" She really didn't want to picture Millicent and Percy doing any of the things that she and Draco did in bed. Or out of bed. Or with food or possessions or any of the other wicked things she and Draco had tried together.

Millicent took one look at Ginny's disgusted expression and burst into laughter. "Sometimes, it's good to be an only child. There's no way to be embarrassed like this."

"Now was Heather supposed to join us here today?" Draco asked, smoothly changing the subject.

"She said she'd try to gather up a few more names as alternates for the game," Ginny informed them. "Honestly, I think we have more than enough people to play now. Vi and Horace thought they might stop by today as well. They haven't been to any Muggle cafés before, and they thought this might be a good place to start."

"Did you see that Minister Howe signed up to play Beater on your team?" Millicent asked, leaning forward to snatch up a biscuit. "And there's two junior members of the Ministry that are supposedly going to be promoted who signed up to play on Viola's team."

"I still say Draco should've signed up to play Seeker," Pansy drawled. She noticed Heather walk into the shop and waved her over to where they were.

The discussion quickly turned to the upcoming exposition match. It was only until later did Ginny realize that no one had actually talked about politics or the upcoming opening of the legislature. Besides the financial reforms, a new set of anti-discriminatory laws was planned to be discussed. It had been penned by Minister Howe and countersigned by several other high ranking Ministers. Fragglethorpe had quietly announced his retirement the day before, hoping to head off any untoward gossip about his love life. Someone had tipped off the Prophet that he was visiting expensive male escorts, and rumors were starting to circulate that tax money might be involved in their payment. Millicent's friend had been brave enough to begin the setup and arrange to have pictures taken, and Fragglethorpe didn't want any of them published. It would ruin his reputation as well as the spirit of his extended family. A quiet retirement forestalled the necessity of a trashy expose in the Prophet.

Ginny had to admit, she was starting to get excited about the exposition match. It was going to be quite a different game of Quidditch than the one she was used to. The players involved would be much more relaxed and wouldn't have the pressure of trying to help the owner make mortgage payments on a dilapidated estate. The fun in the game would be back, and she could see the professionals all trying to showboat a bit. Instead of being fast and sleek, they could twirl about and show off their skills with flair. It would also take some of the slack off of the Ministry volunteers and socialites that had signed up.

Percy and Arthur hadn't discussed any other laws that were being discussed prior to the autumn legislature. They were pushing the financial reforms as hard as they could, though the summer made it difficult to tell if any of their ideas were being accepted. Ginny couldn't tell if they were pushing too hard or were being too subtle about it. With the legislature reopening soon, she was sure that they would find out.

For a change, Draco wasn't scheduled to come over in the evening. She had sent Hermione an owl, but her sister-in-law was busy with something mysterious and Ministry Related; Ginny's mind had provided the appropriate capitalizations for importance. Apparently it was something that involved Ron as well, as he wasn't in his office at the Ministry. Heather had a blind date scheduled with some distant fifth cousin of Horace's that no one expected to go well, least of all Horace. Still, it set his aunt's mind at ease that this cousin had a date with a pretty young witch, and that was all that mattered. Ginny didn't even ask if Viola and Horace had plans that might involve a third (in the non-kinky variety, thankyouverymuch) because of the lovey-dovey looks they were giving each other. Millicent seemed to be busy, and Pansy and Blaise were no doubt planning to shag each other rotten now that they were given a formal blessing.

_I wish I could be out in public with him,_ she thought morosely. Everyone else was paired off and able to go about in any Wizarding shop or event they liked. No one needed to hide their feelings for fear of public opinion or tarnished reputations. No one else needed to pretend that everything was purely platonic when half the time she was sorely tempted to kiss those sarcastic lips in front of everyone.

Rather than pout, Ginny decided to curl up on her couch with a book she had meant to read for weeks. It wasn't anything political or financial in nature, but a simple fast-paced action story about an Auror falling in love with the suspect she was tracking. She had been so busy over the summer that she had let her mindless summer reading lapse. Ginny easily fell into the story, finishing the book in one sitting.

It was nice to sit back and relax in her own flat for a change.

***

It was the cheering that got to her every time.

Ginny could hear the cheering from the crowd; the stadium was full and the broadcast on the wireless had booked every available commercial slot. There were plenty of announcements that the exposition game was to benefit Helping Hands and the war orphans, which made Ginny immensely proud. It was Heather's idea, and it only proved that the charity could be so much more than just a cover for political whispering. While the atmosphere was much more laid back than professional Quidditch, the cheering had the same intensity.

She grinned at her teammates, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Even the Ministers seemed to be caught up in the growing excitement, everyone antsy to begin. They had spent the past week practicing at Nathan Puddlemere's home field. The opposing team had spent the past week practicing at some park that wasn't ideally shaped. They had a ragtag set of brooms and their gear didn't match, but their enthusiasm was infectious. Everyone was ready to play, with the promise of a good cause backing them up.

The announcer introduced both teams as they proceeded onto the field, each player waving in response to the cheers. Draco had said he would wave a red flag edged in green, which were the colors of her exposition team. The other team was playing in blue and yellow; neither needed to comment on how familiar the colors seemed to be. Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny caught a waving green and red flag and could only grin wider. He couldn't exactly run behind the bleachers to look for her after the game, but he could give her whatever support he could. Draco had also cryptically said he had made some friends in her honor, but wouldn't elaborate. Ginny could only assume it was something political in nature.

"I can see why professional Quidditch has such a draw," Michael Howe told her, some measure of awe in his voice. He seemed like a nice enough fellow, but Ginny could see why Hermione considered him a spineless wimp of a Minister. There was something just a little bit hesitant about him, especially considering that he had signed up to play Beater. He wasn't aggressive enough in their practice sessions and seemed just a little too soft spoken in conversation. He was definitely the type to be pushed about by someone with more presence, even someone so patently wrong as Fragglethorpe had been. After being around him for the past week, Ginny could see Amelia Howe as the driving force in their marriage.

Ginny smiled at him beatifically. "It's the crowd. There's so much energy in the room, you can't help but feel as if you're going to make a dozen scores."

All the players were poised on the field, awaiting the umpire's starting whistle. Once it went off, they kicked off the ground and began to zoom into the air. There was something about the grace of flying, the thrill of the chase after the quaffle and the slim chance of seeing the snitch whiz past her vision that never failed to set Ginny's adrenaline to pumping. The crowd was nothing more than a blur in her peripheral vision, the roaring of their cheers a dim thrumming sound under the beat of her blood. She spun into a spiral feint to throw off Ginger Freesia, an up and coming starlet that Heather had recruited through a mutual acquaintance. Ginger looked pretty on a broom but certainly had no finesse in handling it. Ginny spun past her easily and streaked across the sky toward the quaffle.

She leaned across her broom, arm extended, back arched and hair flying out of its braid behind her. The wind whistled past her ears, and she was all grins. This was the best part of the game, the initial rush of chasing the balls and looking for that first score. It was hard to explain the thrill of this rush, the way the endorphins kicked on and she could suddenly feel everything around her with a sharp clarity. There was no Ginny with a past here, no future to worry about, only an everpresent now that moved from one fluid moment to the next to the next. She existed on impulse and instinct, the broom exquisitely sensitive to her every whim. She moved in the air with an eerie grace born of hours of practice and painstaking attention to detail. Before pulling out a new move during a game, she practiced endlessly on the field first.

Ginny was the first to catch the quaffle and race toward the blue and yellow rings across the field. She flew into a barrel roll, spinning faster and faster as she went. She feinted to the left, avoiding the bludger that the opposing team had sent her way. It caught one of the other two chasers on her team, sending the poor bloke into a tailspin. Now zig-zagging across the field, she dove hard and then came up sharply just to the right of the beater that had tried to bat the bludger at her. Ginny blinked to see that it was Marcus Flint, then spun in a circle around him before racing forward to fly at their keeper. She tossed the quaffle through the rightmost ring, and heard the bell tolling the goal. First point.

Marcus seemed to have it in for her after that, making sure that every time he hit the bludger with his bat, it went whizzing in her direction. Ginny took care to fly too high or low for the bludger to connect; she had already taken quite a few hits and didn't care to get another broken bone. Her mother was bad enough with injuries like that, but she was sure that Draco would become completely mental if she was hurt.

Michael Howe might have been a completely lackluster but well-meaning Minister and a fair player during practice, but he seemed to have risen to the occasion. He connected with the bludger more often, even once sending it right at Marcus' head. Ginny could swear that she saw the Minister grinning like a loon at the filthy invectives Marcus sent his way.

Cheers went up as the scores crept up. Ginny snagged another three goals, and the other chasers snagged a few in their own right. The opposition, full of talent as they were, couldn't seem to catch up to the momentum Ginny had built up with her first score.

The celebrity keeper on Ginny's team was easy on the eyes and apparently way too easy on the opposition. Before long, the lead she had helped to build was lost. Irritated, Ginny began to ease into her professional style. Yes, this wasn't a professional game. Yes, this was for a charity. Yes, this wasn't exactly a game that would go onto her official stat listings. Still, she liked to win and she absolutely hated to lose to sore players like Marcus Flint. True, Viola was on the other team and she would play just as hard once she picked up on Ginny's style. It was a risk she was willing to take in order to win.

She was a Weasley, dammit, and Quidditch was holy. You didn't lose at Quidditch if you could help it, and she was a really sore loser when it all came down to it.

With flashes of red and green all along her peripheral vision, Ginny sped across the sky in a rapid arc of broom and Weasley hair. She made a few feints to throw off the opposition's chasers that were following her, and she tucked into a loop that made even her head spin. Hurtling out of the loop into the open blue sky, her breath caught at the absolutely beauty of the afternoon. She hung suspended in air for a fraction of a second, then began plummeting toward the ground in a sharp descent. Ginny pulled up at the last moment and raced toward the opposition's seeker, catching sight of the quaffle hovering a few feet behind him. She arced around his startled face, laughing all the while, and scooped up the quaffle. Ducking the bludgers, she zoomed across the field at a low altitude. Most of the players were high above her, their shadows falling over her bent back. The opposing chasers were diving now, hoping to drive her back up into the air and into the paths of their beaters. Ginny tucked herself tightly against her broom, eyes narrowing slightly behind her goggles as she judged the distance to the opposition's keeper. She began her ascent, pulling up sharply.

From out of nowhere, a bludger crashed into her left shoulder. She could feel the bones shatter on impact, sending her spinning.

Gasping for breath, she pulled at her broom with her right arm. If she hadn't been tucked up so securely against her broom, she would have lost the quaffle in her spin. She could hear the crowd kick itself up into a frenzy, and she knew it was because the umpire hadn't cried foul or called for an injury pause. She grit her teeth against the shoulder pain that was threatening to overwhelm her. _Just a regular sports injury,_ she told herself, sounding an awful lot like her team's owner. _Take it and keep going, get the score!_

She needed one of her fellow chasers to help smack the quaffle through the rings with the tail of his broom. "You need to quit!" he shouted at her, pointing at her limp left arm.

"Never!" Ginny shouted back. She grinned even though she was dizzy and desperately wanted to curl up on her bed at home with a pain tonic. She was a Weasley, dammit, and she was a professional Quidditch player. She wasn't down for the count yet.

Teeth grit so tight her jaws hurt, Ginny continued to zoom like a madwoman across the field. She could see the red and green flag every time she passed Draco, could see the pale blur of his face that had to be etched with concern. He was going to be horrible, she knew, yet she couldn't think of that yet. Her team was almost caught up, the snitch was still out there and both seekers didn't seem to be able to find it.

Ginny could see Viola's concerned face spin past her, but ignored it as she continued to scan for the quaffle. The other two chasers on her team seemed to be picking up her slack, and two more goals were earned in short succession. Ginny spun around in a lazy circle, trying to figure out how she could help the team even without her left arm. She was getting dizzy; no doubt the pain was starting to get to her. The umpire still hadn't seemed to notice her arm dangling uselessly out of its shattered socket despite some members of the crowd trying to point it out. Ah, well, part of the danger with Quidditch...

A sliver of gold flitted past her head. She tracked it past her and watched as it descended in a graceful arc into the center of the field. Neither seeker saw it.

Ginny streaked across the field toward her team's seeker. Nearly tumbling from her broom, she caught the startled seeker. "Over there!" she cried, trying desperately not to point and lose control of her broom. "The snitch!"

The poor seeker kicked into a hard chase after it. Ginny flew overhead to try and block the other seeker's view, but he wasn't that dim. The two seekers were diving down after the tiny golden ball, and Ginny pulled up and out of the descent. She managed to catch the quaffle against her chest with her limp arm, nearly screaming from the effort. She lobbed it at her fellow chasers, who promptly tossed it through the hoops. The other team wasn't even trying to play anymore, their chasers and beaters all trying to see who would win the contest to grab the snitch first. Both seekers were neck and neck, racing for the snitch as fast as they could fly, arms outstretched and reaching as far as they could.

"Come on!" she shouted, even though the seeker couldn't hear her. "Get the snitch!"

But the other seeker's hand closed around the tiny golden ball, and the game was over.

As far as the game play went, it had been a spectacular blend of showy moves and hard dives, which Ginny loved. She didn't enjoy the grinding feeling of bone against bone in her shoulder, or the dumbfounded look on the umpire's face when he realized that he never called such a serious injury. She managed not to growl at the poor man, who wasn't a professional umpire in the least, and had managed to gracefully descend from her broom even though she would have much rather collapsed into a boneless heap. She was whisked away to the medics standing at the ready, though at the time no one had thought anyone would need them.

Ginny caught sight of Viola berating Marcus Flint, her face nearly purple with her anger. Marcus didn't even look contrite, which was probably making Viola even angrier. She couldn't make out Draco's pale face in the stands anymore, but that was probably just as well. Once the pain potions were poured into her system, she didn't want to say something silly or stupid that would give them away.

"That was amazing," Michael Howe told her, once her shoulder was seen to and the potions were liberally dosed. "It was such a brave thing, to play through that injury."

Ginny saw everything through the wonderful haze of pain medication, and she had much kinder thoughts about him now. She smiled at him and waved. "Ah, this could've been so much worse, Minister. I'll live to play another day. Luckily, you weren't injured. You can attend the legislature opening without any difficulties."

He grimaced at her. "It's hardly any fun, Miss Weasley."

She made an inelegant snorting sound that would horrify her later. "Tsk. You're running the government, aren't you? It's work, not play. Time to pull up the boot strings and do the job that they voted you in for, eh?"

Startled, Howe could only stare at her. "What?"

Ginny blithely smiled at him. "Government's hard work, yeah? Harder'n Quidditch, certainly, but pain potions are nice." She giggled at that, and he stared at her in concern now. "But there's all sorts about pushing and pulling and yelling and whatnot, aren't they? Dad certainly says it's stressful. And summer's all but gone now, yeah? Time to work again."

He blinked and nodded. "You're absolutely right, Miss Weasley."

Brows creasing in concern, Ginny looked up at him. "I hope I'm healed up in time for the season. It would be a shame if I couldn't play because of an exposition game."

Howe gave a startled bark of laughter and shook his head. "You will never cease to amaze me, Miss Weasley. Good luck and a speedy recovery."

"Oh, thanks. And you, too," Ginny replied cheerfully. She watched as the Minister left with a confused look on his face. She decided to walk on over to her teammates, and managed it with only a minimum of stumbling. It wasn't her fault that the ground wasn't where it was supposed to be, tilting at some crazy odd angle.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur after that. Considering that it included some yelling about her reckless behavior from Molly and Arthur Weasley as well as Viola, Draco and Pansy, Ginny considered it no loss at all. The pain medication even made losing the exposition match tolerable, which she would never admit when sober.

My, pain medication was a wonderful thing.

***  
***


	10. Into the Light

Even with the wonders that made up Wizarding medicine, Ginny was sidelined from playing Quidditch for nearly three weeks. It had been a spectacular exposition game, and the amount of press it received was amazing. There were donations aplenty, allowing Millicent to gather up the funds necessary to buy the ramshackle estate from Ginny's team owner and still have money left over to do renovations. The Prophet picked up on the purchase and ran a surprisingly positive article on page three, beneath the fold. Ginny's injury was on page two, and the Prophet gleefully saw fit to notice that the great Harry Potter wasn't at the game. Ginny had known that ahead of time; he had sent her an owl full of apologies and silly excuses about tracking his current suspect to Wales and having to remain there for at least two weeks undercover. He didn't owe her any explanations, of course, but still somehow felt obligated to come up with reasons not to be at important games. He had stopped showing up for them long before she had broken things off, which had been one of the telling signs that their relationship was failing. She simply had stopped being as important to him as his job, and he didn't seem to consider her feelings anymore. The hero had feet of clay, after all, and Ginny by now knew him for who he was. She would have fond memories of the times they did spend together, but she wasn't the starry-eyed little girl she had been once upon a time.

Draco had filled her flat with flowers and candy and books all meant to tide her over in the empty hours she wasn't allowed at Quidditch practice any longer. While the bones in her left shoulder would heal and regrow within days, it was the ligament damage that the mediwizards and witches worried about. She had pulled them when continuing to play, as she had done in the past, and it would take time for them to heal. Even with potions, ligamentous damage was the most difficult to heal.

He had offered to spend the time with her at her flat, but she had refused. It would have been nice to have him about to massage her back or some such, but she was also afraid of pushing their relationship in some kind of direction it wasn't ready for yet. They were seeing each other and had even dropped the dreaded L word. Ginny couldn't help but feel that if he practically moved into her flat during her recovery, some other threshold would be crossed.

It was bad enough that they weren't allowed to see each other in public without the threat of ruin. It was bad enough that she had to feel like a slinky tart running about the back stairs of the Manor or locking her Floo so that no one would catch him at her flat. Molly and Arthur had noticed the locked connection, of course, but Ginny had merely waved it off as times she was out doing errands and didn't want anyone scrounging around her things. Her friends tended to be out and about as well, and tended to use owls rather than Floo to find her. She was probably pressing her luck at keeping it locked for so long.

Ginny was tired of hiding, even if she understood why it was so very necessary.

Knowing that she was under the weather, Millicent had offered to come around to help with some light cooking and baking. She had actually become quite accomplished at both during her stay in Germany, and had picked up a few favorite Continental recipes that she was willing to share. Percy had apparently learned all about her culinary skills, and declared them to be almost as good as Molly's. Viola and Heather stopped by whenever Quidditch practices allowed and took her to the Muggle cinema or to Wizarding plays. They slept over a few times, talking about whatever was going on during practice. When talk turned to men, Ginny felt a twinge inside her chest. She couldn't discuss her relationship with her closest friends, and it was almost a physical ache. She wanted to gush about Draco's absurd yet endearing idiosyncrasies the way Viola talked about Horace. She wanted to make moony faces when thinking about kisses or the way he made her feel when he touched her hand. She wanted to go on double dates and have dinners at her friends' flats. She wanted to show him off as more than the selfish rake that the Prophet had painted him as, and she wanted everyone to know that he was _hers._

Pansy took her shopping, of course. Diamonds were apparently the proper gift to give after Ginny's maneuvering of Chesterfield, even over her protests. There were more clothes and other accessories, even though Ginny managed to return three quarters of the unnecessary purchases. She bought ice creams and lunches and potted plants for Ginny's flat, and laughingly sat in the park near her building. Pansy stuck her tongue out at passersby that stared at them, dissolving into giggles when they turned away quickly.

"You're going to give me an awful reputation in the park," Ginny teased.

"I'm just so _happy,"_ Pansy chortled, clapping her hands. "I can't help it."

"And what are you so happy about?"

Pansy turned excited eyes to Ginny. "I wonder... Yes, I should tell you first. It's only fair, I think. Chesterfield will have to be a lousy third to know."

"Know what?"

"I'm pregnant."

Ginny's jaw dropped open. "Merlin's nose! That's wonderful!"

They embraced, and Pansy couldn't stop giggling with excitement. "I can't believe it, I can't believe it. I did the wand check _twice,_ and even got one of those awful Muggle things to check yesterday. And it had that little plus on it!"

"I was wondering what you were up to in that shop," Ginny mused. "You stopped trying to get me to buy candy for five minutes."

Pansy merely grinned at her. "You'll be godmother, of course. I wouldn't want it any other way. And Draco for godfather, since I've known him since we were in short pants." Her eyes started to shine a bit. "You've been absolutely wonderful, the both of you. Oh, I know Draco thinks he'd been an awful prat in the past few years, ignoring me, but I didn't reach out to him, either. I knew he was just getting himself settled after. And you're a new friend, but you've done so much more to make me happy than any of those lousy girls I used to call friends in school." Pansy grabbed Ginny's hands and squeezed them tightly. "Say you will!"

"Oi! Get a room!" someone called out from across the park.

Ginny snorted with laughter along with Pansy and then threw an arm around Pansy's shoulders. "Of course I will, Pansy. Now let's go get some treats to celebrate with before that man expects us to snog."

"Nothing wrong with that, really," Pansy replied cheekily.

Ginny laughed and hauled Pansy up to her feet. "Come along. You're going to be somebody's mother now, and you've got to set a good example."

Giddy, Pansy laughed and followed Ginny out of the park.

***

The opening of the legislature occurred without any formality, as it did every year. All of the Ministers arrived and took their attendance. Summers were discussed with polite tones, and after some time the Lead Minister would demand silence to begin to address new business. Included on the fall docket were the redesign of the Ministry exits, Auror pay scales, Arthur Weasley's inheritance tax reform bill, Julius Wringlemyer's updated real estate guidelines (as underwritten by Percy Weasley), Thomas Suregood's and Arthur Weasley's property tax reform bill, Michael Howe's anti-discriminatory laws, the repeal of the Slytherin curfew and the subsidies given to the various public Wizarding hospitals and orphanages. As per tradition, all items of new business would be discussed in the order they were submitted, not in the order of perceived importance by the legislature. This prevented the long hours of stalling that the legislature had been subjected to in its earlier days.

Neither Arthur nor Percy could divulge any details about the debates on the legislature floor. All Ginny could do was comment that they seemed more tired than usual, and all they could say in reply was that there was "heated debate."

The debates lasted for three weeks, which was unheard of by Ministry standards. Most of the time, bills were brought before the legislature as a formality, as it was decided upon ahead of time. For this particular session of the legislature, there were actual bills being presented and actual debates being held for the first time. Real issues were being presented, and there were points to be discussed on each side. Ginny could only hope that the more outspoken members of each debate didn't simply steamroller over the weaker members. The future of the Wizarding world deserved better than to have extremists on either side take over.

Luckily, Ginny was allowed back on the field during the height of the debates. She threw herself into practice to take her mind off politics and to get herself back into her game. She set a rather punishing pace for herself to make sure she could still run feints using only her left arm for balance, and was pleased to discover that she could. If anyone noticed a pale blonde head in the stands at practices, they kept silent. Draco appearing at some of her practices, even if he had the excuse of relaying messages from Narcissa, was pushing at the edges of their agreement at secrecy. No one had whispered about it yet, and no one on her team thought it was odd. Ginny was sure that it would begin to make _someone's_ notice, and not when she or Draco wanted it to be noticed.

Whatever this thing was, whatever it turned out to be, she didn't want it to be overshadowed by the threat of ruin or career suicide. Alone, they got along fantastically. Even when adding their parents' prejudices to the mix, they were able to come to some kind of mutual understanding and middle ground. The sex was fabulous and the best Ginny had ever had. Even Draco seemed happier to his friends, less biting and bitter. If that faint boundary of fear could be eliminated, then she could really see what it would develop into. She had spent the entire summer skirting the edges of propriety, feeling as if she was sinking deeper and deeper into _something_ important with Draco. They loved each other, sure, but this was more than that, wasn't it? This had become something almost vitally important to her survival.

Looking back, Ginny couldn't even pinpoint the moment when that happened. The bond between them had just slowly grown to become an integral part of her. She could only assume that the same had happened to Draco.

The first legislative announcement of any importance involved the inheritance tax reform bill. The clauses that had been hidden in the current inheritance tax law stipulated that the Ministry could override the choosing of an heir if "unsuitable circumstances render such a decision to be dangerous to the state of society." The current law was now much more streamlined, without any such hidden clauses. There was a percentage applied to the bulk of the estate, with its monetary value set on a sliding scale. Smaller bequests, depending on the amount, could avoid the tax brackets entirely. There was no mention regarding heirs, Houses or state of society affairs any longer, as it should have been to start with.

Buoyed by the success so far, Draco organized a get together at Malfoy Manor for the next set of announcements. Given that the curfews hadn't yet been repealed, it was set to be an overnight stay for the guests. The move skirted dangerously close to allowing Ginny under the same roof as Draco, but she ultimately had to decline the invitation to stay with her mother. Given the way that Draco stared at her, it was probably the safest choice. She could practically see him undressing her with his eyes.

While she missed the Slytherins' response to the new real estate guidelines, she was sure it probably involved a lot of cheering. Again, mention of inheritance and zoning requirements no longer mentioned specific Houses or state of society affairs. All of the guidelines were now more egalitarian and straightforward, with less room to strong arm any particular group of people into economic submission.

For the property tax reform bill announcement, Ginny hosted a dinner party. She invited all of her friends, so her tiny flat was full to the rafters with people. Draco was actually a gentleman in front of everyone, though he did manage to duck into her bathroom while she was in it fixing her lipstick. He kissed it right off of her face and then innocently returned to the living room in time to hear that the reform bill passed with very little argument. As with the other newly written laws, there was no mention of House, political leanings or social standing associated with the tax brackets. Taxes were now gauged on the plot size, compliance with the real estate guidelines, home size, upgrades and Wizarding accommodations. It was possibly the most fair it had ever been, even with the recent war.

The anti-discriminatory laws and the repeal of the Slytherin curfew were announced on the same day nearly two weeks later. To everyone's surprise, both passed.

Suddenly, Ginny could feel as if a weight had lifted from her chest. _They had done it._ All of the effort from the summer had been useful. That chance comment she had made to Draco in the spring had done something after all.

Hope was a beautiful thing, and the entire Wizarding world now had it in spades.

Amelia Howe had done the majority of the planning for the first Ministry ball. She and Stella Flaherty were two of the more socially prominent Ministry wives, and their husbands were at the forefront of recent changes. Minister Flaherty had more bills entered into the prior session, but his expertise had helped to tip the balance in the tax reform debates that Arthur Weasley had spearheaded. He was a Ravenclaw from the old guard; the recent Death Eater debates didn't factor in his ideas for reform at all. He was concerned only with the bottom line and how it would affect government. Now that the tide seemed to be turning from ostracism, Minister Flaherty could once again push for evenhanded taxing brackets and penalties that would ultimately be of more benefit. The ball was primarily to introduce the new anti-discrimination laws and to formally kick start the Season. Out of politeness, the Season never started until the Ministry's most pressing legislation debates were finished, so this year's Season was beginning much later than usual. To make up for it, Amelia and Stella were going all out in the planning of the first ball.

The entire Ministry of Magic was present, as were the very haute monde of the Wizarding World. Pansy had of course declared that Ginny couldn't wear her prior gown again, as it had already been seen. Following along, she had allowed Pansy to buy her another Rosewear gown in deep emerald and silver. After the fact, Ginny couldn't help but realize that her dress was in the same traditional Slytherin colors. At the time, she had only been thinking that she would leave her hair down around her shoulders, and the red would contrast nicely with the deep green color. Draco, she knew, would find every excuse to make fun of her loyalties once he discovered the color dress she planned to wear. Pansy had thought it was a terrific joke.

On further thought, Ginny figured this would be the perfect time to take her relationship with Draco public. She no longer wanted to hide. She knew that Draco would wait until the end of the world, concerned about her reputation and the reputation of their charity. If anything, this was something that would be considered perfectly natural. They had been working together all summer long with the charity, and with the current season were working on Helping Hands' orphanage and school. Of course they were together all the time, and of course this would be something that had naturally progressed with proximity. No one would necessarily guess that they had been shagging each other silly since early summer, waiting until public approval was even remotely possible.

Now this was the opportune moment, a Ministry ball celebrating a new set of anti-discriminatory laws. Slytherins were acceptable again, or at least not worthy of outright disrespect.

Ginny took Draco's arm to enter the ballroom. His eyes flashed a warning, his quicksilver eyes darkening to a stormy gray. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered, concerned. Ginny wanted to push the furrows from his worried brow, but restrained herself. They were almost at the grand entrance to the ballroom, and it was too intimate a gesture to make. "There's no going back once you do this."

"I'm sure," Ginny told him.

"I don't want you to regret this," Draco continued in a low tone. There was concern etched in his features, worry coating his voice. It almost hurt to hear the fear in his tone, that he was so afraid their relationship would crumble to pieces if exposed.

"I regret nothing," Ginny told him honestly. "I love you."

Draco sighed and placed his hand over hers on his arm. "I know." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "It's because I love you that I'm saying this. It's not too late to stop it. We don't have to go through with this."

"I want to," Ginny insisted firmly.

"It's one thing if it's just between us, if it's hidden. They won't let it go if it's public. This can't be something easily swept aside if something goes wrong."

She smiled at him, loving and serene and at utter peace with herself. She had been sure about this for a long time. "Draco, stop being such a nervous ninny. I love you. You love me. We've been only too ready to let our friends and family know. Let's go give them all something to write about in tomorrow's Prophet, shall we?"

"I'm pretty sure you don't mean shagging you up against the wall," Draco muttered under his breath. His eyes were dancing, though.

Ginny laughed, shaking her head. "That's for my flat, you," she teased. Her laugh slid into a smirk as she watched his eyes darken with desire.

"Wench," he hissed playfully. "You're going to leave me aching all night."

She squeezed her fingers around his forearm. "You're going to have to punish me, then. I'm planning on being such a bad, bad girl."

Draco sucked in a sharp breath but couldn't reply. Now they were entering the ballroom, and anything he said could be heard and repeated. Ginny knew what he was thinking and wanted to shake with laughter. She wanted to feel his hands across her back and his lips on her pulse. She wanted to feel him inside her, wanted to see his control shatter as he came. She wanted to feel his arms around her as she fell asleep, his limbs all tangled with hers the following morning. She wanted to dance under the stars and have the entire world know that he belonged to her and she was his. She wanted to have that feeling for as long as she could, forever if at all possible. She wanted this feeling to last for all eternity.

At the moment, it really felt as if this was possible.

As they stepped into the light of the dance floor, eyes never straying from each other, Ginny could hear the whispers starting all around them.

She kept smiling.

The End.


End file.
